


small hands

by jrangel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Multi, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrangel/pseuds/jrangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been more than three years since the attack on the prison and on more days than not Rick felt like he was managing. She was alive and lovely and growing stronger everyday. She was his light at the end of the tunnel. AU: Rick escapes the Governor’s attack with Judith in tow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. miss you terribly already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Judith run into a group of bad men.

 

“Up ahead. Just through here.”

A man, lithe and long-legged, shuffled forward out of the brush, pausing only to allow the smaller figure trailing behind him to push past, holding his arm against the gnarled branches to allow her more mobility. She shuffled ahead of him, the pack around her shoulders dragging across the dirt road, too large for her small frame to support fully but not obstructive enough to impede her movement. 

Following the young girl, the man’s eyes scanned the area in front of them, gaze flitting across the weathered pickup parked just beyond the small porch attached to the modest house they had stumbled upon. An outbuilding stood a little further away, perhaps once a tool shed or a barn of some sort. It was quiet except for the sound of their feet, the weight of their steps emitting a muffled crunch as they treaded across the fallen foliage.

Checking the door to the pickup when they drew closer to the house, the man yanked at the latch to the passenger side and riffled through the glove box before gesturing to his charge to move closer.

“Wait in here for me.” He instructed before lifting her easily into the car seat, brushing back the hair that had fallen across her face once she had settled. “I want you to honk the horn if you need me to come back out here and I want you to use this—” From his waistband he produced a revolver and placed it into the blonde girl’s hands. “If you need to. Understood?”

She nodded, her face drawn into a small frown.

“Sit tight and lock the door.”

The young girl obeyed without further comment and watched as the man removed a machete from its sheathe before disappearing inside the house. She peeled her eyes away from the front door and kept her focus on the stretch of dirt road that led back to the main highway and the line of trees that encircled the house, her thumb hovering over the gun's safety catch. 

Outside the car it was quiet.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Daddy.”

Her soft voice carried through the silence that filled the house. Her tone was calm and measured, just loud enough to alert her father without causing him to fear for her safety. 

“Daddy, come here.”

Abandoning the toolbox he had found in the garage, the man shifted carefully around a fallen shelf and made his way back into the house. Following the lingering memory of his daughter’s voice down the main hallway, he felt himself relax for a moment as the flaxen-haired girl came into sight, her small frame visible in the doorframe leading into the kitchen. She had her hair swept up in a loose and messy knot now, wisps escaping to frame her cherub face. Her expression was set into a deep frown as she gazed at something in the next room over.

The man placed a gentle hand on the young girl’s back when he drew close enough to make contact, the touch as much for her comfort as for his own. 

Peering into the kitchen, he understood her reluctance to enter immediately.

Seated on the ground towards the back wall were two figures. What had once been a man and a woman were now slumped over each other in the dried and tacky pool of their own blood. A handgun was clutched in the woman’s hand.

“Nothing we haven’t seen before.” He tossed out gruffly, moving passed his daughter to squat in front of the unpleasant scene, reaching out to pry the weapon from the stiffened fingers. Once it was free from the dead woman’s grasp, he released the ammunition magazine and was happy to note the six rounds still situated inside.

“Why’d they do that?” the girl asked, drawing his attention back.

He popped the magazine into place and slid the gun into the waist of his jeans. “What?”

“Why’d they do that?” She repeated, curiously drawing nearer to the bodies.

“Judy…” This was an old discussion, but he also knew that she wasn’t old enough to understand. It pained him that she knew more than she should have ever had to. “You know why.” He began, trying to keep the exhaustion from touching his voice. “Some people ain’t fit for the world anymore. These two weren't, so they opted out.”

She nodded slowly and glanced at him, as if looking for confirmation.

“That ain’t an option.” She said matter of factly, like she was reciting something.

“Not for us it ain’t.” He affirmed quickly. “We’re strong, sweetheart. We’re always gonna keep trying. Got people waiting for us. Can’t give up, ain’t that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Good.” He said, glad that the subject was closed at least for now, that he could put it out of his head. “Now help me check the cabinets.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They scavenged what they could and packed away what they had found before the man finally plucked a can of beef stew he had left on the counter and moved them into the adjoining living room. They sat on the couch, the little girl watching her father eagerly as he jimmied his hunting knife into the tin, carving out an opening from which to pour. Dividing the stew into two bowls on the coffee table beside them, he caught some of the sauce on his thumb by accident and hummed, darting his tongue out to lap at the spot.

A soft whine caught his attention and the man released a low huff of amusement before handing over one of the bowls to his daughter, watching her closely as she began to eat before digging into his own dinner.

“Are we sleeping here?” The blonde asked later, dipping her fingers into her bowl, wiping up the last traces of sauce that sat there.

“I’d say so.” The man replied, giving his own dish a similar treatment, lapping at the lingering stew that clung to the plastic. 

Putting the bowl aside, he reached over and grabbed the smaller of the two packs, handing it to the young girl who took it in her hands easily. 

“It’s getting late,” He drawled out, stretching his legs as he stood. “And I’d rather not travel at night with our supplies as low as they are. Tell you what, when I cleared the place I noticed a bedroom up the stairs I think you'd be interested in. I think it might have been a little girl’s room before. Maybe there’s still books or toys up there that you might like. Why don’t you go check it out while I board us up for the night?”

She disappeared upstairs with a quick “yes, Daddy,” leaving him to retrieve the box of nails and plywood he had spotted in the garage earlier.

He found her later on the floor of that upstairs bedroom, her brow scrunched cutely in concentration as she narrated aloud what looked to be a fight between a stuffed rabbit, a baby doll, and a plastic dinosaur. He observed her for a while, loathed to intrude what fleeting moments of a normal childhood she was allotted, but soon enough he found himself breaking up her fun and directing her to bed.

“Story first?” She asked, darting around her father’s guiding arms and running to the small bookshelf in the corner, dragging a large volume out and presenting it to him, which he accepted with a feigned reluctance.

The mattress that occupied the room was moth-eaten and small, barely large enough to accommodate them both, but it was better than the floor and he was quick to usher his little girl under the sheets, providing her with what little comforts he could. Settling along side her, his body instinctually shielding her from the only entrance to the bedroom, he lifted the hefty anthology onto his chest and flipped through a few pages before he began to read. The little girl sighed deeply and for a while was content to listen in silence.

“Can we change the names?” the little girl asked a few minutes later, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The man reached out and wrapped his fingers around the girl’s wrist, dragging it away from her mouth. “What do you mean, darling?”

“I want different names. Like her…” She pointed at the page. “She can be Michonne. And the little boy…” Her finger shifted to the little boy illustrated in the corner. “That’s Carl.”

His chest tightened and his heart thudded painfully in understanding, but with a tight nod he gave his ascent, trying to hide his reaction behind a watery smile.

“Sure, sweetheart. We can pretend.” He flipped the page, his own bottom lip now caught in the nervous grip of his teeth. “Should I start with a different story?”

“Yeah.”

He read.

“There once was a tree who loved a girl…”

She interrupted him quickly.

“What’s her name?”

“Named Judith.”

“That’s me!”

“That’s you,” he said, ruffling her light curls. “And when she was young she enjoyed playing with the tree whenever she could. She’d climb his trunk until she could see all of the forest below. She’d swing from his branches, letting the cool wind lift her up into the air. And she’d eat his apples, slurping the sticky juice from her fingers. And the tree was happy.”

“What’s the tree’s name, Daddy?”

“The tree is Daddy, sweetheart.”

“What’s your name?”

It felt ridiculous that he had never told her, but then again, what would be the point? It had been just them for so long it almost didn’t matter if she knew it or not.

“My name is Rick.” He finally answered, another odd wave of realization rolling through him that it was the first time in over three years that he had heard his own name spoken aloud.

His little girl tugged on his arm. “So, Judith and Rick would play?”

“That’s right, but then Judith grew older and she wanted things that the tree couldn’t give her, so the tree – uh, Rick – gave her his apples to trade, which she did. And the tree was happy.”

“What did she get?”

“She got lots of things, baby.”

“Blankets?”

“Sure. Like blankets.” He paused, tugging the sheets further up where they had slipped. “When Judith grew older she wanted a house to live in. Rick wanted her to be safe and gave her his branches to build a house with, which she did. And the tree was happy. When Judith grew hungry, she wanted a boat to fish. The tree—”

“Rick.” The little girl interrupted.

“Rick…” The man corrected, “… wanted the little girl to eat and gave her his trunk to build a boat with, which she did. And the tree was happy.”

“When Judith was much older she met the tree once more. Rick was sad and told the woman who had once been his little girl that he had nothing left to give, as his apples, branches, and trunk were long gone and all that was left of him was a stump. But Judith laughed and told the tree that all she wanted was a quiet place to sit and rest. So, they sat together and the tree was happy.” The man pressed a noisy kiss to the top of the blonde's head. “The end.”

“I liked the story, Daddy." She murmured, bouncing up and down happily. "I liked it that you read it with our names. Can you read me another? But this time you gotta use different names.”

The man snorted at the bossy tone. “Okay. Let’s look for another one then.” 

Flipping to a new story, he began again.

“There were two friends… uh— Daryl and Carol. One day they went out for a long walk and when they returned home Daryl noticed that a button had fallen off his jacket. Retracing their steps, Daryl and Carol returned to the meadow, the woods, and the stream where they had walked. During their search, Daryl and Carol ran into two more friends, Maggie and Glenn who decided to help them look.”

A harsh pang of sadness hit him suddenly as he read and the man cursed himself for being so sensitive still. He could talk about them on most days for her sake, his little girl always having questions and always wanting answers about the people who had looked after her before it was just the two of them, but it always hurt. Weariness and anger bloomed in his chest right on cue and the man fought viciously to stamp it down before it showed.

Biting his lip hard, just once, he kept reading.

“Daryl searched and searched and searched but he couldn’t find his missing button. And when he went to his friends to see what they had found, they each presented him with a button, but none of them were Daryl’s. They searched all afternoon but eventually, Daryl lost his temper and got so mad over not finding his button that he ran home by himself, leaving his friends behind.” 

Eventually, the telling hitch in his breathing gave him away.

“You’re sad." She said, perceptive beyond her years. "Why?” Her own eyes grew wide and concerned, her lips curved downward into a pout.

“Sorry, darling.” He felt stupid for feeling whatever it was that got him all choked up and worse that she had caught him. “I don’t mean to be, but… sometimes, it’s hard, remembering. It makes me miss them more.”

His little girl nodded in understanding.

The truth was, however, that dredging up memories felt like an act of violence to what semblance of resignation he had achieved. He couldn’t remember what it was like to think of them as a comfort like his little girl could. For him, they had long become reminders of his failures and his loss, and not even the memories of brighter days could soothe the part of him that now seemed made to suffer.

His little girl tugged at his arm, displeased with his silence and the man sighed heavily, flipping the page.

“When Daryl got home he stormed inside and went straight to his room… where on the floor he discovered his missing button! Realizing that he had led his friends on a wild goose chase and left them behind in his anger, Daryl quickly sewed the missing button back on his jacket as well as the other buttons his friends had found that day.”

He glanced down at her and felt himself relax, his muscles loosening as his heart swelled when he caught sight of her face. The upward quirk of her lips was like benediction. He caught himself thanking whatever force out there that had kept his little girl capable of happiness in a world that stole away more than it ever saw fit to give back. He continued reading even as her eyelids dipped and her breathing slowed.

“Returning to his friends, Daryl apologized for his behavior. Finally, Daryl revealed the new and improved jacket and wanting to show how much he appreciated her for helping him, Daryl gave the jacket to Carol because to him their friendship was more important than anything else.”

When her breathing hitched into a languid exhale, his voice trailed off and he found himself quietly setting the book aside. Ready to drop off himself, the man made a move to blow out the candles that lit their room for the night when something across from him caught his eye.

In the corner of the bedroom he saw a woman in white. She considered him from where he laid, her eyes evaluating, her mouth curled into a frown. Pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes, the man whined low, from the back of his throat. He didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want to do this again.

 _Playing pretend again?_ the woman said.

A hint of a sneer touched her mouth and it burned him to see.

 _This world isn't fit for children anymore_ , she continued. _Stories don’t change that_.

Yeah well, he had a child. She was here.

 _Maybe she shouldn’t be_ , she whispered. _Maybe this isn’t how it’s supposed to be_.

No, no, no. He wouldn’t accept that. Couldn’t think that way.

She laughed. _Why is this better?_

She had moved closer, somehow, and was gazing down on them with a look of pity that made his stomach clench.

She's happy. Strong. She would survive this.

 _She’s happy now_ , she said, _but you can't keep this up. You run and run and run and run and that’s all she’ll know. Even if she survives she’ll end up just another animal who doesn’t know anything else. What kind of life is that? What kind of—_

He blew out the candle and turned away before she could break his heart any further, burying his nose into his little girl’s hair, breathing in the scent of it. Putting it out of his mind, he felt blessed when the pull of sleep hastily swept him away.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Judith was one and her legs were chubby and clumsy as she treaded across the uneven and heavily wooded terrain, Rick had marveled at the way she seemed to fearlessly take in the world around her. She lived in a world of monsters and yet her arms were perpetually thrown wide and clutching at the air, her face soft and inquisitive as she moved slowly ahead. The threat of walkers loomed large and often, but Judith had not let it slow her down and with the recent introduction of her newfound mobility, his little girl had begun to fuss more and more for opportunities to stretch her legs as they traveled.

They had been separated from the group going on five months when Rick had started feeling better and more carefree than he had in awhile. He had moved them out from the relative safety of the thick brush and allowed Judith to walk, unencumbered, through an open meadow that broke up the monotonous scattering of trees around them. They had stayed there for longer than they needed to, Rick wanting his daughter the opportunity to practice while also enjoying the quiet moment himself.

In hindsight, he had been reckless and stupid.

A man, wiry and clearly starving had entered the clearing, drawn to the meadow by Judith’s babbling and Rick’s soft-spoken words of encouragement. Zeroing in on their packs, the stranger had begged Rick to share what food supplies he had, claiming that he had little ones of his own struggling back at their camp. Startled by the appearance of another living being, Rick had gathered Judith into his arms and without a second thought trained his revolver on the other man, removing the safety in warning. The men, dropping to his knees as soon as his feet would allow him, had pleaded for his life and Judith, upset from the harsh handling of her father, had begun to cry. 

The chaotic turn of events had sent Rick retreating back into the cover of the woods, barreling through the thick brush, desperate to put as much distance between his daughter and the stranger as he could manage. Within the curl of his arm, his daughter continued to sob in distress, quieting only when Rick stopped running. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he had ducked low behind a fallen oak and with what breath he had cooed at his daughter until her cries became no more than whimpering hiccups. 

She had settled and for a moment things were calm.

But then the sound of twigs snapping filled the surrounding silence and the crunch of leaves beneath footfall.

Rick’s mind had gone blank and as the sound of boots on the forest floor grew louder, he felt himself drift further and further from himself. He had watched with a sick fascination as his body began to move, almost of its own accord, tracking his arms as they lowered his soothed daughter to the ground, cradling her head until she came to rest upon the soft mud floor. The next moment his gun was in his hand and he was crouched behind the fallen trunk, the flash of blue from the stranger’s raincoat catching his eye as he took aim.

Of course, Judith had cried again. The gunshot had been deafening in the hush that preceded it. 

But she was safe.

Later, once she had passed out from exhaustion, Rick had cried too.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

With her cheek nuzzled into the crock of her father’s elbow as they both dozed in the weak light of dawn, she awoke to the sound of glass shattering and hushed voices. In an instant her father’s arms tightened around her before his body jerked away from the bed, quietly stumbling towards the door. She watched her father hover cautiously before pressing an ear to the wood, listening. It wasn’t long before he wrenched himself backwards, eyes wide.

“Shoes on. Quick.” He hissed across the bedroom, moving hurriedly to snatch up their belongings. Dragging their packs to the window, he carefully slid the pane up and deposited their supplies onto the generous ledge of roof available to them.

“Your turn. Go.” He whispered, hoisting her up from under her arms and keeping a tight grip on her jacket until he was certain she had found her footing. 

“Keep low and out of sight.” He growled, cradling her face to keep her gaze on him. He reached around to his holster and palmed his revolver, handing it over. “Use this if you have to. Remember, safety off.” He pressed a kiss into her forehead as she nodded her understanding before moving away. “Love you,” he said and slid the window shut, separating them.

The first thing he felt was pride when as soon as the window latched shut behind her she ducked down against the shingles out of sight. The second thing he felt was numb, hot and cold in a way that set his teeth on edge, rage simmering beneath his skin and fear sending his heart through its paces.

Stalking across the room, he grabbed a pillow from the bed and tore its casing away, wrapping one end around his left hand, leaving the other end loose. He could hear the men downstairs; their voices filtering through the walls as he pressed himself back against the wall closest to the doorway, waiting.

“Someone was here. Place is nailed up all nice and tight.”

"Could've been the dead ones in the kitchen."

"No, man. This shit's recent. Smell that? Smells like someone lit a bunch of candles in here and it sure wasn't them corpses."

“Well, ain’t that interesting. Lou and Tony upstairs. Rest of you help clear the downstairs.”

He waited, body thrumming as footsteps could be heard bounding up the staircase. The door to the bedroom pushed open and a man entered, older and wide around the chest. He moved without thinking and wrapping the casing around the stranger’s neck and pulled tight, cutting off his air, along with his voice in one powerful yank of his arms. The stranger struggled, sending him flying backward onto the mattress, but his arms remain taut and unyielding and eventually the other man’s face turned purple and his flailing came to an abrupt end.

Jerking himself out from underneath the body, he checked the stranger’s pockets and found a hunter’s knife and nothing else. He plunged the knife into the dead man’s skull, worried that if the man turned he would draw the other’s attention.

“Heard a bit of a commotion in there, buddy.” A voice called out from just outside the door. “Get yourself into a mess with one of the dead ones? We all heard a— ”

Another one of the intruders came through the doorway and before he could say another word, the man slammed his fist into the stranger’s face, sending him sailing to the floor. Crushing his knee into the other man’s stomach, he continued to rain down punches as he settled over him, the squelch of his knuckles knocking into flesh and bone and cartilage painfully loud to his own ears. Breathing heavily, he let his arms drop once the man went limp beneath him, the stranger’s face swollen and bruised beyond recognition.

“Anyone see if Lou was all right?

His head jerked up and he tried to concentrate again on the voices.

“I thought Tony got him.” One of them said.

“Well, where the hell is Tony?”

“Tony!”

He scrambled to his feet and made for the exit only to slam into a body on his way out, and then hands were on him, fists cramming into his gut, fingers gripping his hair until tears came to his eyes. Roughly manhandled down the flight of stairs, he came crashing to his knees on the hardwood landing, a hand on the back of his neck pressing his face into the ground.

“This guy killed Lou.”

“And knocked the shit outta Tony.”

“Get him the hell up.” A new voice growled. “I want this walking piece of fecal matter out into the yard, boys.”

His struggling earned him a kick to the jaw and a boot in his stomach and by the time they had wrestled him out onto the dusty driveway he was just grateful not to be choking on the blood that filled his mouth. Rough hands patted him down and lifted the knife, machete, and pistol he was carrying. He snarled when he felt more hands delve into his coat pockets and tried to bite at the intruding hands only to receive a swift knock in the teeth for his troubles.

The stranger searching him pulled away, studying what he had found. “There’s a woman shacking up in here,” he concluded.

“Say what?” The larger man, most likely their leader, asked.

The stranger displayed the hair tie he found to the others, wisps of blonde hair still caught in the elastic. “Look at the hair. That didn’t come from this asshole.”

“She could be miles away by now.”

“No way, Joe. By the way this asshole came at us, I’d say he’s protecting something. The bitch is probably hiding somewhere around here.”

“I call first when we find her.” One of them jeered.

“Harley, go search the upstairs and Billy, you check the woods.”

Trembling, the man fought to regain control of his limbs, but he was aching and every attempt he gave to get up was met with a swift incentive from one of the strangers to stay down. Eventually, a hand settled around his throat and eased him up from his crumpled position, the pressure tightening until his eyes flitted upward and connected with the grinning lunatic before him.

“Now I know you must be scared and I can see it, seeing you shake the way you are.” The stranger’s grin widened, the man they had called Joe. “You’re sweatin’ it big time, but today is a day of reckoning, sir. You see, you killed our friend and did quite a bit of damage to another. That’s not something that we can just let slide, you understand?”

He growled then, his teeth bared. “Stop this!”

But Joe just smirked and hushed him. “Shh. You’ll get yours. You just wait your turn.”

“Listen, to me. Just listen.” He begged. “It was self-defense. They attacked me. This house was ours.”

“Now look, here. We’re reasonable men and we can settle this like reasonable men. First…” Joe ticked off one finger. “We’re gonna find the girl you’re traveling with. Then…” He ticked off another. “We’ll have her, one by one. Then…” He ticked off a third and patted him mockingly on the cheek. “I’m gonna shoot you. And then, my friend, we’ll be square.”

The three strangers began to laugh.

It was only moments later, however, when gunshots rang out suddenly in the relative quiet, sharp piercing sounds that jerked his attention away from the cackling men and back over to the house.

“Uh oh.” The men’s leader quipped, placing his hands on his hips as he as turned his attention back toward the house. “Looks like my guys mighta gotten into a spot of trouble with your lady friend.”

A voice could be heard calling out somewhere on the other side of the house, male and gruff, and it wasn’t long after the sound of two more rounds filled the air.

“Now this is just ridiculous,” Joe said, huffing out a breath of annoyance. “Len, go check on them boys and see what causing all the trouble.”

The stranger carrying the rifle, Len, nodded and began to make his way around the side of the house only for his body to go slack a moment later, falling to the ground as a fourth shot was fired from somewhere on the roof.

“The fu—” Joe began, but the man saw his opening and took it, slamming his skull backwards into the stranger’s nose, crushing cartilage in his wake. He tried to break free from the other man’s grip, but Joe held fast, dragging him up by the front of his jacket and delivering a solid punch to the side of his jaw.

“Oh, it’s gonna be so much worse now,” Joe growled, shaking him once roughly, laughing as the his head hung limply to the side. “Come on.” The stranger taunted, teeth bared in something that once could have resembled a smile. “What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?”

With his head lulling back to regard his capturer, he pondered his options. A sharp cry filled the air and his brain, sluggish as it was, registered the sound of his daughter’s frightened voice.

“Daddy!”

His body moved, his mouth opened, and his teeth latched onto the stranger’s throat before the actions could bare thought, his canines tearing into the soft flesh with a squelch, ripping into the other man’s jugular. Blood exploded into his field of vision, his face smeared in dripping red viscous as he watched the wide-eyed stranger collapse onto the dirt road. 

He didn’t have time to consider what exactly he had just done. Moving with purpose, he relieved the dying man of the sheathed hunting knife hanging from his side and turned on the portlier stranger who had watched the slaughter of his leader in a state of frozen horror.

He approached him slowly, stalking closer with a snarl on his lips, the knife clutched in a painfully tight grip at his side.

“Stay back.” The last of strangers whined, stumbling backward clumsily in his terror, palms up and arms out. 

His fear was a silly thing. Unnecessary. This was the way it had to be.

“Stay— There’s more of us. If you do this, they’ll find you and your daughter. They’ll kill her. They’ll kill her.”

The words were a garbled noise to his ears, the pleas and the threats doing nothing to penetrate the bloodlust that propelled him forward. He felt his knife sink into the pleading man’s chest once, twice, and then again and again and again. He lost count as he plunged the blade repeatedly into the man’s flesh, sinking to the ground with his would-be attacker as the other man’s legs gave out. 

Covered in blood and viscera, his chest heaved as he fought to regain his breath, the reality of his brutality creeping over him as the light of day began to bathe him in golden light. Struggling to wipe the gore from his face, he removed himself from the butchered body hastily, taking a few steps before he bent sharply at the waist and expelled the contents of his stomach onto the dirt driveway.

The cloying taste of iron filled his mouth and he gagged again, unable to stop the stream of tears that burned slick trails down the sides of his face. 

He had gone too far. 

Glaring down at the shaking, red-stained hands in front of him, he searched himself for any sign of the man he’d been – the sheriff, the husband, the leader – and came up short.

He dropped back to the ground and felt numb acceptance settle in. She had been right, hadn’t she? All those years ago he hadn’t wanted to accept it, but here was the proof. What sat before him was the carnage of a cornered beast, not a man. What would Lori have thought of the animal he had become? 

Just when he felt his despair would consume him whole, delicate arms wrapped around his shoulders and brought him back. For a moment, the darkness receded and the knife at his throat eased back, and he could breath. Sobbing out his relief, he curled himself around his little girl, sheltering her body from the death that seeped into the ground surrounding them. He registered the pressure of fingers on his check and looked down on her tear-stained face reverently, gently carding his fingers through his daughter’s blood-speckled hair. He looked at her and felt it all just slip away.

If God was real, then he resided inside her. 

And if she ever left him, his world would burn.

 


	2. void through awkward silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Judith struggle as resources dry up.

 

Rick checked his rearview mirror again as he turned onto the highway, cringing as he caught sight of his own appearance in the reflection. The blood soaked into his clothes was still damp, pungent and suffocating in the ancient pickup they had crammed into earlier that morning. 

After the initial hysteria had subsided to manageable levels and Rick could breath again, he felt his body switch onto autopilot, his instincts screaming at him to get them out of there. Bundling Judith into his arms, he hurried to the vehicle still out front and deposited her at the passenger door, barking at her to wait for him inside. With a singled-minded urgency, he gathered the packs they had stashed on the roof and then doubled back to pat down the bodies littering the yard, retrieving his confiscated machete and revolver along a few other weapons of choice. He threw his findings into the back of the truck before ripping the driver’s side door open. A broken steering column, a series of stripped wires, and a jammed screwdriver later, they were on the road before the sun had fully passed beyond the tree line. 

It wasn’t until the dried blood in his beard had begun to itch, however, that he noticed the fresh tear tracks streaming from his daughter’s eyes.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Eventually, they came across a river.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they pulled over.

Rick stepped out from behind the wheel and circled the hood, popping open Judith’s door. Sliding down her seat, Judith landed gracefully onto the muddied ground and began walking toward the riverbank, striding away without a word exchanged between them. 

Usually, Rick wouldn’t have thought much of the silence. Silence was something they were used to. Words weren’t always necessary and they had gone longer without talking. But after what had happened at the house… He should have said something. Less than 8 hours had gone by since his daughter had gunned down three men and then had witnessed her father brutally slaughter two more. He remembered how Carl had struggled with the violence at first, how he had eventually acclimated and then eventually overreached, but Judith was barely even half the age Carl had been then. Shooting walkers was one thing, but people was something else entirely. Could she even make sense of that difference? As the quiet stretched and his mind raced, Rick knew he had to say something.

Dragging the larger of the two packs from the bed of the truck, Rick followed his daughter to where she had settled by the stream, the toes of her boots dipping beneath the water from where she sat. He moved to stand behind her and was surprised when she twisted around at the sound of his approach and unclipped the empty thermos hanging off the bag at his side. Untwisting the lid, she crouched forward, back on her feet, and held the bottle beneath the river’s surface. 

“Here. Let me.” Rick offered, reaching out to take over.

But Judith shook her head, not even turning to regard him properly.

“It’s okay. I don’t need help.”

She said it straight-faced, her tone unaffected, but the dismissal scared Rick more than he was willing to admit to himself.

“Hey,” he said softly. He moved to her side before dropping into his haunches, fighting back the burning guilt that sunk into the pit of his stomach like hot coals. “Wanted to tell you Daddy’s sorry for yelling at you before. I didn’t mean to scare you. After what I did…” 

He trailed off.

Judith took her eyes off the river and furrowed her brow in confusion as she looked at her father.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said incredulously, like he was simple for believing otherwise. She turned her attention back to the river. “You’re on my side.”

“I am.” He replied haltingly. “And you’re on mine. That’s why I wanted to talk about… How you’re feelin’.”

She was quiet, as though in deep thought, considering the question.

“I feel okay,” she answered finally, easily.

Rick was taken aback. “You do?”

She hummed, hands still submerged in the stream, cool river water running along her pink, sun-kissed skin. “Yeah, m’ happy. We’re safe, the bad men are gone, and we still got food. It’s good.”

His eyes slid shut, his heartbeat slowing incrementally as her words soothed his nerves, but his skin was still thrumming and he didn’t get the feeling that his concerns were completely unjustified.

He still needed to ask. “In the car, I saw you were crying.”

Judith glanced at her father through the corner of her eye and blinked, a heartbroken look overtaking her face. “We forgot the book,” she explained.

“The book?” he asked.

“I liked the stories you told me last night and I wanted to hear them again.” She frowned. “But we had to go and I didn’t want you to worry. It wasn’t important.”

Rick swallowed heavily around the lump forming in his throat. “Oh, baby. I’m sorry. But I still remember those stories, could probably come up with a few more too.” He gently squeezed her shoulder. “Okay?”

Judith nodded. “Yeah.” And then she smiled at him, eyes crinkling in the corners as her mouth split wide, and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, how this bright, beautiful little person came from him.

When her attention returned to the river, Rick rocked back onto his heels and stood, managing to turn around before cramming the meat of his palm between his teeth, biting into the skin hard. Back at the car, Rick took a minute to collect himself, taking several long, controlled breaths, before setting about preparing them for the night. With a full thermos of river water Judith cornered him a little while later, asking if they had any other containers to boil the water in. Five bottles later, Rick watched as she walked through the brush, picking at the overgrown grass that grew there.

“Whatchu doin now, darling?” he called out, hatchet in hand as he broke down some fallen lumber that sat back away from the bank.

“Getting grass.” She yelled back, waving her handful at him.

“For what?”

“For fire.”

If she wanted to help, he wasn’t about to discourage it. He thought he would do just about anything at this point to indulge her unexceptionally high spirits. “We need the dead grass, okay? The ones that’re brown. If it’s green it won’t burn.”

“This one.” She ripped a large blade from the dirt and displayed it to her father.

“Gonna need more than that, baby. Show me when you got a bundle going.”

When she tugged on his arm only a minute or two later, he thought it was to show off the tinder she had gathered, but when he looked down her face was hardened and her eyes weren’t on his, but locked instead onto something in the distance.

She pointed. “Walkers.”

He followed the direction of her finger and saw three stalking towards them from along the riverbank, the muddied earth slowing their pace.

“Daddy will take care of them, all right?” he soothed, steering her back to the truck, helping her inside. “Get in and I’ll handle it. Lock ‘em doors too, just in case.”

Judith strained to watch her father through the window as he doubled back, drawing the machete from his belt and swinging it around once in his hand before sending the blade into the first one’s skull, shoving another with the weight of his elbow hard enough that it crumpled backward. Wiggling his machete free, he walked over to the fallen walker and crushed the heel of his boot into its forehead, his blade slicing into the third a moment later. His chest heaved with the exertion and he allowed himself a moment, his eyes lingering on the dead littered around his feet. With one last deep sigh, Rick turned back and went to help his daughter down from the car.

They managed to build a fire before the sun disappeared completely from the sky, Rick showing Judith how to start a fire with the flint key he had found between the gearshift. After a warm meal of canned chili, Rick and Judith loaded into the front seats, doors locked and lights out, before settling in for the night.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

In the morning, Rick built the fire on his own while Judith continued to sleep undisturbed in the car. When she woke up a little while later, he had already boiled enough water for two instant oatmeal packets and was stirring them while she struggled to get down from high step of the truck.

She whined pitifully when she stepped into a sunny spot, lazily shielding her face. “The sun is too bright for my eyes right now.”

Rick released a small huff of amusement and balanced the pouches of oatmeal against his pack while he waited for them to thicken. 

“Your hair is wild, girl.” He mused, fluffing his fingers through the tangle of flaxen hair when she stopped in front of him, causing her to giggle. “Could’ve mistaken you for a mountain cat with that furry head of yours.”

Judith leaned into him and for a second he thought he was about to receive a kiss or a hug, but she surprised him by landing a soft punch to his chest.

“Umph.” Rick mock groaned, doubling over. “Why’d you go and do that?” he asked, his face breaking out into a smile at her high-pitched laughter. “Knockin’ your old man in the heart like he ain’t the one that woke up early to make you breakfast. Ungrateful little—”

“That isn’t your heart!” Judith argued pointedly. She pressed her hand into his abdomen. “That’s your belly! Your heart is over here.” She moved her palm up, settling it on the right side of his chest.

He grinned at her, his eyes crinkling, and she grinned back, her toothy mouth split wide.

“You have the worst morning breath I’ve ever smelled in my life.” He said, feeling as though the love inside of him was going to make him burst.

She laughed again, her face lighting up as his fingers darted in to tickle her exposed sides, releasing another mock groan when she retaliated with another soft tap of her knuckles, this time aimed at his shoulder.

They had calmed down and Rick handed her a pouch, patting the earth beside him in invitation.

“Feels hot.” Judith murmured worriedly, glancing at him.

Rick dipped his spoon into her oatmeal and checked the temperature against his own tongue.

“It’s a little warm, but it ain’t hot.” He reassured her, handing her a spoon of her own.

Together they ate their meal in the tranquil hum of early morning, Rick only breaking the comfortable hush to scold Judith when her clumsy handling caused some of the oatmeal to drip over the side.

“If you spill this I’m gonna be very angry, sweetheart. I’ve told you too many times not to fuss with it.” He told her firmly, humming when she licked the spilled mess off of the pouch. “Don’t got food to waste, baby.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled, suitably mollified.

They finished eating and Rick set about packing up the truck and then, like that, they were back on the road. 

The pickup championed through the morning but gave up around midday, the gas drying up just beyond state lines as they breached Virginia. Strapping what they had to their backs they travelled up the road for a couple of hours and came across a running Sudan that carried them for another couple hours before breaking down outside of Richmond. 

Rick lifted his eyes and scanned the horizon while Judith shrugged on her pack.

“Should look for food. Can see some creeks along the road up ahead, could probably catch us some frogs for dinner.”

They spent the afternoon by the creek, rooting around in the water in search of something viable. Giving up when nothing could be found, Rick relocated them back to the concrete of the highway and they continued walking until the sky turned pink. The sun was low now and the shadows were long across the pavement. Moving into the cover of the tree line, Rick emptied the tarp and rope from his pack and went about constructing a shelter between two sassafras trees growing in the area.

While he worked on the tent, Judith busied herself with a small bush of elderberry that grew a little further off into the woods, gathering the fruit into the pouch of her outstretched shirt one at a time. At some point while she was working, sat in the dirt, the blonde had worked her boots off of her feet, along with her socks, wiggling her toes in the fresh air.

“M’thirsty.” Judith called out after a while. “Want some water.”

He didn’t look up from where he was knotting the rope around the opposite tree. “Okay, there’s water over here. Come get it.”

“Alright.” The blonde sang from her spot on the ground.

“Alright.” Rick sang back, indulging her silly mood.

“I’m comin’ to get it.” Judith lilted again.

He smirked. “I’m waitin’ for ya.”

Eventually, she stood up, still barefoot, and hobbled over the forest floor to her father, doing her best to avoid stepping on any sharp twigs or rocks.

“Ouch. Ouchie. Ouch.” She complained.

Rick rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle. “Put your shoes back on, sweetheart.”

Judith turned around to retrieve her shoes, but stopped dead in her tracks when a low, rumbling growl filled the air. Beyond the elderberry bush, hackles raised and long canines bared was a large black dog. It snarled at his daughter and Rick having never moved faster, whipped out his revolver and took aim from over Judith’s shoulder, sending two rounds off in fast succession, one burying itself into the dog’s side, the other one landing true into the beast’s skull. 

Frozen where she stood, Judith stared at the place where the dog had slumped over, her eyes wide. Rick ran over to his little girl and wrapped her up in his arms, squeezing her once before pulling back to check her over.

“Are you okay?” He asked, brushing the hair back from her forehead.

“M’fine,” she murmured, frowning down at the berries that had burst onto her shirt, purple stains marking her front.

The berries had been a good find but the dog wasn’t something they could pass up on. Unable to squish the feeling of wrongness that came with butchering what had once obviously been someone’s pet, Rick prepared the meat with a fair amount of disgust. Giving Judith the opportunity to test her fire starting skills and to remove herself from the process, Rick handed over the flint key and set her to work gathering the wood and tinder. Soon enough they had a small fire going and meat frying over the embers.

“M’sad the dog died.” Judith muttered when her father handed off her portion. She looked down at the slab sadly.

Tearing off a strip of chard meat with his teeth, Rick chewed the mouthful with a hint of trepidation as he got used to the flavor. “Why?” he asked, swallowing. “You’d rather it have been you?”

Judith’s eyes narrowed, annoyed. “No!” she said indignantly.

“Okay, then eat it.” Rick said, egging her on.

“I don’t wanna!” She complained, dropping the meat back into the pan. “In the stories the dogs are always nice…”

“Listen.” He scolded, pointing a finger at her in warning. “I ain’t making you nothin’ else tonight, so it’s either this or you don’t eat.”

The fire snapped audibly just then and a log fell, sending embers crackling across the dirt.

He could just imagine her stomach rumbling on cue as she eyeballed the frying pan, her lips pursing into a pout as she relented, snatching the cut of meat back and quickly taking a small bite. They finished eating and Judith, more exhausted by the scare than she had been willing to admit, passed out on top of the soft earth, already lost to sleep.

Keeping an eye on his little soldier, Rick wrapped the perimeter of their camp in trip cord, used tin cans dangling along the cording to alert them to any nighttime intruders and packed away the leftover meat. When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed his daughter’s hair as she slept, carefully lifting Judith into his arms and bringing her under the shelter of the tarp. With a little patient wiggling he fit them both snuggly inside their sleeping bag and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It had been two days since they had finished the dog meat and one day since they had realized that they only had two bottles of water left between them.

To say that their situation was desperate wouldn’t be enough to accurately describe how dire their outlook was shaping up to be. They had discovered while walking the highway that a large group of walkers had followed them from the forest and had congregated behind them as they traveled, their horrid moans and growls alerting even more to their presence. With food as scarce as it was and the storm clouds looming ahead, Rick wasn’t sure what he should worry about more. They had both weakened considerably in the past few days, fatigued and hungry to the point that Rick wasn’t sure that if came to fighting the hoard off, they could manage it as they were.

They had been walking for little more than two hours when Judith demanded that they stop.

“No Judy,” Her father chided, still pushing forward even as he turned back to regard her. “You gotta walk.”

“But Daddy, m’tired.”

He shrugged, too tired himself for things like kind words. “I ain’t carrying you.” 

“Don’t wanna walk anymore.” She whined, stomping her foot onto the pavement.

Rick took a long, calming breath and pinched the bridge nose. “You don’t got a choice, darling.”

“No!” She yelled finally, throwing her pack to the ground, teeth gritted, nostrils flared. “M’tired and my tummy hurts. I wanna stop!”

“Hush.” Rick snapped, whipping around to glare at flaxen-haired girl, his own expression severe. “You’ll draw the walkers.”

She glared at her father, lips twisted as she refused to back down. “I don’t care!” She yelled louder, her tiny voice carrying in the relative silence.

“Hey.” He barked, his patience wearing thin as a creeping headache settling at the front of his skull, a product of the dehydration and hunger no doubt. “Rules.”

His little girl, defiant in her anger, pressed her lips together in a hard line and huffed a small burst of air from her nose. Noting the protest for what it was, he marched up to her and crouched low enough to meet his daughter’s narrowed eyes with his own before repeating himself firmly. “Rules.”

“Listen to Daddy.” She recited crisply, arms crossing over her chest.

“Why?” He rasped back.

“You keep me safe.”

“Why?”

“It’s your job.”

“And?”

She dropped her gaze to the ground. “Cus we survive for each other.”

Hooking a finger around her chin, Rick redirected her eyes back up and sighed heavily, noticing the tears that pooled in the ceases, a hair’s breath away from spilling. But he knew his daughter and he knew that she wouldn’t cry over this. Didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to watch his blood go hungry.

“I hear you, little one. I know you’re tired.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture seeming too soft for this hard world. But she deserved soft. He wished he could give it to her in more than a careful touch. “But stopping ain’t gonna help with that, baby. We don’t have any food, any place to rest. We’ve blown through nearly all of our ammo and we’re too weak to fight that herd that’s forming down the way. We stop walking and that herd becomes our problem. Our best bet is to keep moving until we find some place that we can hole up for the night and wait them out. Okay?” 

He tweaked her nose playfully and was relieved to see a hint of a begrudging smile curl at the corner of her lips. “Can you do that for me, honey?”

It took a prolonged pause, but when she nodded Rick couldn’t suppress the flash of pride that rose in his chest and he picked her up and settled her on his hip without a second thought. Judith clung to him and rested her head against his shoulder, the tip of her nose brushing just slightly against the bare skin of his collarbone.

“Daddy?”

Raindrops landed on her upturned cheek as they moved under the coverage of the high pines that lined the highway. Rick hiked her higher on his hip and felt his arm tighten around her as, in the distance, the roar of thunder rumbled through the clouds.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’ve got in me.” He said, answering the question she hadn’t asked.

She huffed a quiet ‘thank you’ into the dip of his throat as he continued to walk, digging his heels into the soaked earth one at a time.

It was about 20 minutes later when he finally returned her to her feet. They had slowed considerably and during that time the walkers had inched even closer and the collective sound of their throaty whines had grown louder the more ground they gained. He could smell the rot of their flesh and the stench of old blood, could see when he saw it fit to look the gleaming viscera hanging from shredded abdomens and the frayed skin of slashed up mouths. 

Rain soaked and shivering from the cold that had long settled into their bones, they hurried along a muddied path leading away from the road, where honey locust grew and made up a canopy overhead, shielding them from the worst of the rain. They reached the end of the trees and were led to a field, where a few yards off, Rick made out what looked to be a barn.

His fingers clutched around his daughter’s hand and led her forward, grim determination adding speed to his steps as they approached the first standing shelter they had seen in days. The barn stunk of cattle, and piss, and unwashed things, and the dust of neglect, but it was more than they could have asked for. Rick forced his way through the door, Judith pressed close behind him as he assessed the area, checking for movement. When he found none they latched the entrance shut quickly, time against them as the walkers that had trailed them drew near. There was a tool bench along the wall and Rick grit his teeth as he strained to drag the metal table in front of the doors, legs scrapping harshly against the ground. He had only just set it into place when the pounding began. He could hear the crash of bodies colliding against the boarded walls as the herd finally caught up, their fingers scratching along the wood, scrambling for purchase.

Judith stood back from the door, her trembling lip viciously stilled by the grip of her teeth; tears spilling down her face despite her efforts to stem them.

Troubled by her hitching breath, Rick slid his arms around her and gathered her up. Carrying her to one of the stalls lining the center of the barn, he stepped over the divide and sat with her in the nest of hay as she sobbed into the crook of his neck, her curls caressing his rough cheek. Outside the storm raged on, not even the walkers’ moans drowning out the crash of thunder and rain. The noise was deafening but all Rick could hear was Judith’s frightened cries as she fisted her hands into his jacket, her knuckles pale with the strength of her grip. A sickening feeling rose in his belly, and he swallowed down the bitter taste in his throat, running twitching fingers through his daughter’s hair.

The woman in white stood outside the stall and sneered.

 _Can’t pretend now_ , she said.

Burying his face in her flaxen hair, Rick tried to hum over the noise, something simple, something to distract.

 _If she dies tonight_ , she continued, _it ends for her. Tell me why it would be better another way. She wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. Hungry. Angry._

His breath came too quickly and left him bereft when it was gone. He was dizzy. The small child in his arms shook.

_She wouldn’t have to live with a knife at her throat every second of every day._

Rick crushed Judith to him as he struggled to force air into his lungs. Closing his eyes, he prayed their end would be quick.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Rick woke the next morning, the world had righted itself and things were calm and hush.

Checking Judith he found her sound asleep, her mouth parted slightly, her chest moving in an easy rhythm. She had exhausted herself eventually, crying the way she had been, and even now the skin around her eyes was pink and puffy from irritation. Caressing the soft apple of her cheek with his thumb, Rick dipped his head low to place a kiss to her forehead, making sure his jacket was tucked snuggly around her before he stood.

He crept out of the barn as quietly as he could manage.

The wreckage from the storm was a sight to behold. Large, scaling pines uprooted from the earth, a few walkers here and there impaled on the gnarled branches. The sky was bright blue and free of clouds, the air still buzzing in the aftermath.

“Hello!”

Rick spun on his heel and leveled his hunting knife at a man standing not too far in the distance at the edge of the clearing.

“I’m armed.” He snarled, wild-eyed as he assessed this new threat.

“Hey, it’s okay.” The curly-haired man craned his head to the side, glancing back at the trees he had just emerged from, a quizzical hitch to his eyebrow before his eyes returned to Rick. “I’m not here to hurt you. I come in peace. Promise.”

The stranger raised his hands.

He was clean, Rick noted. Clean and groomed. His clothes were in good shape too, not worn or in tatters like his own, which meant that he wasn’t wearing the same thing every day. Regarding the size of the modest pack he was carrying, Rick was pretty sure that this wasn’t somebody who was living rough. His checks had a tinge of pink to them and the skin of his lips was smooth, which meant he had access to food and water. 

This man had a camp somewhere. A camp meant others.

“There ain’t nothing here for you, do you understand me?” Rick warned gruffly, itching to sink his blade into the other man, uncomfortable with how unknowingly close he was to his sleeping daughter.

The man laughed, not unkindly so, but the sound still set Rick’s teeth on edge all the same. “I get it. I’m a stranger. Would you believe me if I said I just want to get to know you better?”

“You come any closer and I’ll end you.” Rick replied, making himself clear.

The awkward chuckle faded into a resigned sigh. “That’s fine. I’ll stay right here, okay? I don’t want any trouble.”

He stood where he was, unmoving except to glance over his shoulder again before returning his gaze to Rick. Rick’s blood ran cold as his mind put the pieces together.

“You with someone?” He asked.

The man nodded, sending Rick what he was sure was meant to be a disarming smile. “Yes. I’m traveling with a friend.”

Rick couldn’t take two. Not the way they were now. 

He’d have to take them one at a time. 

The man’s eyes widened, panicked, as he watched Rick stalk forward and his hands disappeared down to his belt, fishing around for a weapon he would not reach in time. Rick launched himself at the stranger and to his surprise the curly-haired man blocked the incoming blade, his hands coming up to restrain Rick more easily than he should have, fatigue making him a poor fighter. They grappled and Rick snarled when his hold on the knife loosened and was sent out of his grasp. 

Moving quickly, he rolled them onto the ground, dragging the stranger down with him. Rick could feel the earth beneath his shoulders, the moist dirt and leaves smearing into his hair while his forearm bracketed tightly against the other man’s throat, leading his head back. The man writhed in his hold, red in the face as he struggled to catch his breath, and if Rick just applied a little more pressure then it would all be over.

“Get off him, man!” A voice called out suddenly and before Rick knew it hands were hauling him backward.

Reflexively he let go of the curly-haired man, more concerned with the threat he couldn’t see, thrashing wildly as he was sent head first into the ground, a solid weight on his back securing him into place. Rick didn’t have time to think, snarling as the newcomer pinned him down so effortlessly, his chin dug painfully into the mud. Lodging an elbow back into his attacker’s ribs, Rick clawed his way out from the other man when he felt the blow connect and clambered back to his feet, reaching for the machete still at his belt and brandishing it with a growl as he whipped around.

A crossbow was aimed at his head, arrow drawn back and at the ready, but it was the appearance of the stranger that gave Rick pause.

“Rick?” the newcomer rasped, voice quiet and confused.

And like that Rick knew, with sudden, distressing clarity, exactly what it felt like to snap. _Crazy_ , his mind supplied. Lori had been one thing, but this was different. Rick didn’t see _him_.

 


	3. hope for your life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl never thought he’d see them again. Never thought he’d be begging Rick to trust him either.

 

Daryl dropped his crossbow, the weapon sliding down to hang uselessly from his arm, while beside him Aaron gasped as understanding dawned upon.

“You’re alive.” Daryl breathed, aching to understand how that was even possible. 

They had never found a body, but that hadn’t stopped Daryl from burying Rick Grimes in his head a long time ago because it was what he had needed to do to keep moving. After the cluster fuck that had been Terminus, and then the chaos at Grady, and then Beth… There hadn’t been room inside of him for any more of it. The “maybes” and “what ifs” that surrounded Rick Grimes had been sidestepped in favor of something absolute and final in Daryl’s mind. Death, after all, was something that Daryl knew what to do with and unlike the gnawing dread that accompanied hope it wouldn’t fester.

And yet there he was, and in a world where the dead roamed freely, the appearance of another dead man shouldn’t have come as such a shock. Hope couldn’t begin to describe the complex surge of yearning that shot through him or, and for that matter, the heartache that bloomed deep within his chest when those blue eyes turned on him again.

But if Rick was relieved by Daryl’s appearance, he didn’t show it. 

Before them Rick had gone quiet, his bruised mouth sealed shut in an even line, his angular face giving little away as he watched Daryl, wary in a way that set alarms off in the back of his mind. The man looked thin and bone-weary and a touch wild, blood-shot eyes heavy lidded and narrowed as they regarded him like both prey and predator. But Daryl noticed the hollowed cheeks and his eyes lingered on the too large clothing, disheveled and liberally streaked with dirt and gore.

“How are you here?” Rick asked eventually, his tone wondering and almost introspective. Something about the way he said it was off to Daryl’s ears. He spoke as though he wasn’t speaking to someone else at all, but rather, directing the question to himself.

Daryl’s hand twitched, ready to reach out and needing the proof of warm skin and a heartbeat to calm his nerves, but instinct kept him still and unmoving. The other man’s unwavering grip on his machete hadn’t gone unnoticed and instead of relaxing at the sight of him, Rick’s body had seemed to vibrate with just restrained violence and closed off even more.

“Rick…” Daryl began cautiously, the name rolling strangely from his tongue, perhaps a side effect of disuse.

“No.” Rick growled out, the word almost drowned by the low rumble of his own voice as he jerked away. “You’ll stay back.”

“Hey.” Daryl said, backing up immediately and providing the space the other man clearly needed. “That’s fine, man. Relax. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Probably uncertain and definitely bewildered by the turn of events, Rick didn’t relax, the arm holding his weapon trembling at his side. 

“You know me, Rick.” Daryl said, trying to reason with the frightened man, the words that never seemed to come now pouring from him. “You’ve been on the road for a long time now, huh? I’m willing to bet you haven’t encountered the nicest of people. Traveling alone like you are ain’t easy, things are bound to get twisted out there when all you got is yourself—”

His rambling came to a sudden stop as a child’s voice filtered its way out from inside the barn and twice in one day, Daryl’s heart broke.

“Daddy?” Her voice carried with it a soft Georgian twang, lilting sweetly and colored by concern. “Daddy, where’d you go?”

Rick flinched and his mask dropped, worry and hesitation evident in his expression. Understanding, Daryl gasped as something overwhelming and powerful bubbled up inside him, his gaze moving beyond Rick onto the barn.

“Judith.” Daryl never thought he’d say that name again and he felt himself leaning forward despite himself. “She with you?”

And like that, the change was instantaneous. 

Daryl could almost pinpoint the exact instance that they had ceased to be people at all in the other man’s eyes. If Daryl had thought that Rick had looked dangerous before, he now seemed downright feral. Rick’s body tensed, coiled tight and ready to strike at a moment’s notice, his upper lip curled up in a snarl as he bared his teeth at them.

“Don’t move!” Rick yelled, machete up and poised. “Judith, latch the door!”

Promptly relinquishing his crossbow to the ground, Daryl raised his hands and hunched his shoulders forward, taking another step back, trying to appear small and compliant in the face of his friend’s agitation.

“We ain’t lookin to hurt your little girl either.” Daryl soothed, keeping his voice low and measured, scared of spooking him even further. “Christ, Rick…”

“We didn’t think you made it, okay?” Daryl confessed, voice cracking somewhat at the admission, ashamed at himself now in hindsight. 

“Was traveling all around Georgia before we left and didn’t see a sign of you anywhere. I _searched_ , Rick. But you were just gone. And then we kept running into bad crowds, one after another, and it wasn’t safe for us down there anymore. But it wasn’t like it was easy— you just weren’t there. Didn’t know if you were alive or dead and I just… I gave up… That’s on me. Maybe— maybe I could have done something.” His words were tripping over each other and he paused to take a breath and collect his thoughts. “Carl just about put a bullet between my eyes when we told him that we were leaving the state without ya.”

“Carl?” Rick croaked, barely able to force the name passed his lips as his eyes welled up.

Daryl nodded, jerking his chin up and down. “He’s good, Rick. He’s alive.”

Rick let loose a choked sob, his body trembling with grief he hadn’t let himself feel and pain that had gone too long unacknowledged. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, Rick forced the tears back and locked his eyes on Daryl once more, begging without words for more.

Daryl had never gotten the hang of denying Rick anything and three long years separated hadn’t done a thing to change that. “We found somewhere good a while back. Our group is there. Carl, Glenn, Michonne. And Carol too. We found her too.”

Rick winced and his gaze dropped for no longer than a few seconds, but Daryl could help but notice how Rick’s fingers curled into a fist for a touch longer, nails digging into the flesh of his thumb before flexing his fingers back into an open palm.

“Aaron…” Daryl continued to explain, placing his own hand on the other man’s shoulder. “He brought us in a couple of years ago and hooked us up with everything we could have ever needed. Food and water. Protection. Life’s easier in there.” 

“That all sounds nice.” Rick spoke after mulling over Daryl’s words. “You think I should trust you?”

Daryl shrugged, familiar with Rick’s brand of paranoia. 

“I think you already do. You just need a little reminder.”

Rick let out a small huff of breath, eyes roving over Daryl’s face as though considering. 

“People do what they need to in order to get by. I trust that.” His head cocked to the side as his eyes continued their search. “You’re different than you were before… You’ve changed.”

“I lost my family awhile back. That shit will change you.” Daryl tossed back, impatience sharpening his voice. 

“We were brothers,” Rick murmured haltingly, his gaze loosing focus as his words became self-directed once more, like he was reminding himself of the fact. “Were… Don’t know what we are now.”

Daryl wasn’t sure if his heart could take much more abuse. 

“You’ll always be my brother, Rick.” He said, desperate to remind the other man of that simple truth.

Slowly easing his backpack from his shoulder and onto the ground, Daryl raised a placating hand in apology when the unexpected motion startled Rick back onto the defensive, the other man snarling in warning.

“Easy.” Daryl entreated, keeping his movements slow and telegraphed. “I’ve got some food with me, food we made with some of our crops and cattle. Jar of applesauce and some jerky. You should have it.” Daryl removed a paper bag from his pack and let his arm stretch out toward the other man in invitation.

Rick eyed the bag cautiously, but Daryl noticed the way the other man was worrying the skin of his lip between his teeth, a nervous gesture that Daryl remembered catching onto as far back as when they had been staying at Hershel’s farm. 

Beside him, Aaron shifted slightly and Daryl watched as Rick’s eyes darted toward the subtle action, and before he could think too much of it Daryl barked out a firm “hey,” wanting Rick’s attention back where it was needed. 

He felt weird about doing it the second the word left his mouth, but it worked and Rick’s eyes locked on his without hesitation. 

“Take it easy,” Daryl soothed when the man was once again staring into his eyes. 

Fear and desire appeared to war inside of Rick in equal measures, although it looked as the through the prospect of food was ultimately too tempting to pass lightly. 

“Back up.” Daryl ordered gruffly to Aaron, jerking his head back. “He don’t need both of us crowding him.”

Heeding the advice, Aaron took a few steps back, his hands still open and palm up, maintaining a calm and reassuring posture.

Rick watched the curly haired man move away and the clench of his stomach loosened by some and he could breathe. Directing his attention back to the ghost of his friend, Rick felt something like defeat and resignation settle over him as he cleared his throat and rocked forward on his heels.

“Give it here.” He rasped out, his own arm extending towards the proffered paper bag, the machete lowering for a moment.

Daryl took a few cautious steps forward, wary of the other man’s knife, and wiggled the bag in offering.

Snatching the crumpled brown bag with his free hand, Rick retreated back toward the relative safety of the barn, his body humming with adrenaline and his hand shaking as he clumsily dumped the contents of the bag onto the ground. 

Rick set his sights on the jar first, wedging the glass into the crock of the arm still wielding the knife before using his free hand to wrestle the lid off. Dipping a shaky finger into the puree, he licked at the mush on his finger once before releasing a low whine. Rick twisted the lid back into place and quickly stuffed the jar and the plastic bag of jerky back into the brown sack. 

Several yards away, Daryl watched his friend slowly approach the barn, hesitantly knocking his knuckles against the wooden door.

“Judith, it’s okay.” Rick called out, his voice cracking around the words. “You can come out, sweetheart… Everything’s okay.”

There was a beat of silence and then a small figure emerged from between a crack in the barn door, a pistol clutched between her small, steady hands. The little girl stepped further out, brow furrowed and expression set into a firm scowl, aiming the barrel toward Daryl and Aaron. 

For a moment Daryl’s mind was clouded with the memory of another blonde child and tears of relief escaped the corners of his eyes without his permission as he noted the healthy flush to her cheeks and steady rise and fall of her chest even as she glared them down. 

“Not gonna hurt me or my Daddy. Not gonna let ya,” she declared, every inch the imposing, young lady Daryl expected she would be.

Across the way, Daryl could hear the hammer of her pistol click back as she disengaged the safety with a distressful familiarity.

“We don’t wanna hurt nobody, lil’ lady.” Daryl said quickly, taking the kid seriously as his hands went back in the air.

Surprisingly, it was Rick who called her off.

“Put it down.” Rick husked out, placing his hand over the pistol and lowering it so that it was no longer pointing at either of the other men. Below him, Judith sniffed loudly, less than thrilled to be disarmed in the company of strangers, but reluctantly holstered her weapon all the same. 

The ex-sheriff knelt in front of the little girl and reached into the brown paper bag, withdrawing the jar of applesauce. 

“There’s food,” Rick said as he unscrewed the lid. “I’m gonna need you to eat this, sweetheart.”

Rick placed the jar into his daughter’s hands, dipping a finger into the fruit before offering it to her. “Open up for me.”

Judith opened her mouth obediently and sucked the mush from her father’s finger and laughed when the sweetness hit her tongue. “It’s good!”

Rick laughed too, a quietly manic noise escaping from between his lips, something like relief touching his expression. “It is, isn’t it? Now g’wan.”

Rick made a move to stand but was stopped by a small hand clutching his arm. The ex-sheriff met his daughter’s gaze and cocked his head questioningly.

“Who are they?” she whispered, her voice low and concerned. Daryl could only barely make out her words.

Rick seemed to consider his words carefully before answering. “See the one with dark hair? Mark right above his mouth?” 

When Judith nodded, Rick continued. “We knew him once, back before it was just you and me. You were nothing but a baby then and he took care of you when I wasn’t well enough to do it myself. He was good to us.”

“Daryl?” Judith asked, putting the pieces together. She looked past her father and studied him for a moment. “He gonna take care of us now?” She asked, in tune with her father’s unease.

“I don’t know,” he offered back honestly. “But he gave us his food and he says there’s more if we come along with him.” Rick paused. “If he’s telling the truth, baby, then your brother’s alive too.”

“They have Carl?” Judith squeaked excitedly.

Rick shrugged, doubt clear on his face. “Can’t know for sure.”

“But if he is, we’re not gonna leave him.” Judith said firmly, a confident finality to her statement.

Something like a smile flickered across Rick’s face for a moment before his features flattened out again, mask slipping back into place. 

“No we’re not.” He offered easily, straightening up from his crouched position. “Now stay put. Daddy’s got some details to work out.” 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The closer Rick got to the two men standing at the far edge of the field, the stronger the urge to run back to Judith and flee into the woods became.

He couldn’t do that though, couldn’t be that _weak_.

His daughter needed him to be someone unshakable and uncompromising, which was easier said than done. Not giving into that weakness with every tentative step he took was a battle into itself, knowing in a distant kind of way that he wasn’t solid enough to deal with this right now, his head instinctively bowed to avoid the men’s gaze.

“How’s this gonna go?” Rick asked, pushing the words around his constricting throat once he had reached them. A frown stiffened the muscles in his face as he forced his eyes up, regarding the two.

Daryl spoke first. “How d’you mean?”

Ricks clenched his jaw, hating that the other man was forcing him to spell things out. “Nobody gives something for nothing anymore. What’s it that you want?”

But Daryl was already shaking his head, frustration coloring the movement. “Rick, it ain’t like that at all. Hell, you’re family. Ain’t you remember?”

Rick had learned long ago not to accept miracles at face value. Luck and goodwill were dangerous things to rely on out here and Rick would not be fooled so easily. 

“It’s been a long time,” he answered, shifting on his feet.

“Nothing’s changed.” Daryl said, undeterred. 

Rick’s mouth twitched at the sentiment, but stood his ground. “Lots has changed.”

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, each refusing to back down on the matter. Before long, the curly haired stranger– Aaron, took a cautious step forward and raised a hand to draw their eyes away from each other and onto to him. 

“We have a car not too far away from here…” Aaron interrupted, sensing an impasse between the two friends and molding himself quickly into a mediating role. “Me and Daryl, we just came out this way to check some snares, do some light hunting…” 

Aaron paused and gave Rick an evaluating look. “I understand why you’re hesitant. You don’t want to put you and your daughter in a situation that you feel is outside of your control. That’s totally understandable.” 

When Daryl looked as though he was about to pipe in again, Aaron quickly cut him off. 

“Why don’t we give you some time to think it over?” He offered, still addressing Rick, whose eyes had yet to leave his own. “We’re not going to try to take you anywhere you don’t want to go. But you need understand, our offer is genuine. Alexandria is more than a camp, more than just a fortress. It’s a community. We’ve got crops and cattle, running water, electricity that runs through a solar grid, and people. Good people.”

Rick’s eyes twitched at the mention of people, but Aaron continued on as though dealing with a spooked horse. Wary but insistent.

“I can see that I haven’t convinced you. Daryl was pretty much the same way. Why would we offer our resources to an outsider without some ulterior motive, right?” He chuckled lightly, hoping to ease the tension. 

Rick’s eyes narrowed, but his chin lifted, the movement just slight enough to miss if you weren’t paying close enough attention. 

Aaron continued, emboldened. “Here’s the truth. In this world, we’re only as good as the people we surround ourselves with. When we took in Daryl’s group, we became stronger. I see you, Rick. I see a man who has raised a healthy, spirited child despite the every odd and that is admirable beyond measure. You asked what would be in it for us? That’s it. Another good man in a world full of bad ones.”

Aaron hiked his backpack higher on his shoulders and sighed when Rick remained quiet and unmoving before them. “Think about it, we’ll be back in about two hour’s time.” 

Aaron turned to leave, but noticed that the hunter was still rooted to his spot. “Daryl?”

Daryl’s head jerked in Aaron’s direction and he shuddered slightly, remembering himself, but was still reluctant to leave the two behind, even if it was only meant to be temporarily. 

“Fuck. Give me your pack.” He demanded, giving no explanation.

Aaron relinquished his backpack to the hunter, who dug through the center pouch, unearthing another paper lunch sack. He approached Rick again cautiously, stopping halfway and extending the bag to the other man a bit desperately. 

“Just— take this. Please.” Rick watched the display, confused.

Rick nodded and accepted the additional food, his movements less agitated as he walked over to receive the bag.

“Come on, Daryl.” Aaron called out, already disappearing into the tree cover, out of sight.

Daryl gave Rick a pointed look and slowly began to follow the other man back toward the edge of the clearing.

“Don’t you two go anywhere.” He said, trying to sound stern, but mostly coming off as desperate.

And then, he was gone.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Rick was no longer able to smother the vicious pangs of hunger with the lingering feelings of panic and trepidation, he allowed himself to sift through the contents of the second paper bag. 

Cautiously nibbling on a protein bar he had found inside, he broke off a piece for Judith, who ate it with the same initial hesitance as the applesauce but then hummed in delight before pointedly asking for more. Together they ate with the type of self-control that came with not knowing where the next meal would come from. 

Rick watched his daughter chew into a small slab of jerky before removing the rest of the food from sight, worried that they would gorge their supplies when they should be rationing them.

“What d’you think?” He asked after she had finished. “Should we go?”

Lapping up the last traces of salt on her thumb left from the jerky, Judith removed the digit from her mouth with a wet pop before looking up at her father. 

“Daryl’s family and family won’t hurt us,” she said simply.

“You know what this world does to people, baby.” Rick reminded her, a part of him hoping to scare her. “We haven’t seen Daryl in a long time…”

Judith, though, appeared unperturbed. “But you told me about them. Said they took care of me before, said that they were lookin’ for us. Now they’ve found us and we can be family again. We have to go!” 

Ever the perceptive child, Judith reached up and pressed her thumb into the curve of her father’s frown, pushing the corner of his mouth upward affectionately. “Not everyone can be bad.”

Rick smiled weakly, but shrugged a moment later. “I don’t know, Judy. Seems like bad is the only kind that’s left.”

Removing her hands from her father’s face, Judith found her way to her feet and stomped on the ground angrily. “No! I ain’t bad and you ain’t bad either. Daryl can’t be bad. Carl can’t be bad. Stop saying that!”

“Hey, hey. Shhhhhh.” Gathering his daughter closer, Rick stroked her hair in slow passes with his fingertips. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

Judith huffed out a sigh against his neck and punched him in the chest, annoyed. “Why don’t you wanna go? Don’t you wanna see them again?”

He rarely lied to her, hadn’t ever really felt the need to, so he tried for honesty. “I’m scared. Scared how things have changed.”

“Daddy…” Judith lilted, shaking her head like his admission was amusing. “It’s okay to be scared, but you gotta be brave too.”

Rick snorted, remembering all too well having said the same thing to her a thousand times over.

“Okay.” He said, hating that he felt both relieved and terrified by the decision. “But you got to keep your guard up, understood? I need you to be my eyes and ears, darling. Don’t think you’re safe just because they’ve promised us something nice and pretty. We don’t need nice and pretty, we just need safe.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Okay.”

Together they finished off the last of their water and returned to the barn to gather their belongings.

Almost exactly two hours later from when they left, the two men appeared through the trees, a line of squirrels hanging from Daryl’s shoulder and a satchel of hares draped along Aaron’s back. Rick and Judith stood outside of the barn with their own gear strapped to their backs, ready and waiting. 

They met the two men half way.

Stealing himself at their arrival, Rick fought against the thoughts warring inside of him. He knew that he was a creature of extremes, but never before had he felt so split in opposite directions.

Half of him wanted to sink to his knees and plea to whatever higher power out there that this was real. He wanted to beg and whine and throw himself at the other man’s feet, wrap himself around him and never let go. He wanted Daryl to promise he would never leave again.

The other half of him wanted his knife at the man’s throat, his blood soaked into his hands, his flesh between his teeth. The other half demanded both men prone on the ground, still, and unmoving.

Rick shut his eyes and when he opened them they were fever-bright.

“You gonna take our weapons?” he asked harshly, eyes on the hunter.

“Nah.” Daryl said as though he hadn’t even considered it. “You gonna use them?”

Rick’s mouth twitched. “If we have to.”

Daryl nodded and began walking. “Sounds about right.”

They walked for a while, Aaron and Daryl taking lead while Rick and Judith trailed behind. It didn’t take long before they arrived at a lightly camouflaged vehicle, pine branches obscuring the car from afar. Aaron set about removing the foliage while Daryl loaded their backpacks into the trunk of the car along with their catch.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Aaron had already slid into the driver’s seat by the time Daryl finished up squaring away the game they had managed to catch. When he looked up from the trunk, Daryl saw that Rick was still outside, Judith hanging off the side of his torso.

The bright, calculating eyes examined the car and then darted up at Daryl as though feeling his gaze. It only took a moment for the hunter to realize Rick was waiting for instruction, waiting for _him_ to give an order on what to do.

“You ain’t a prisoner, Rick.” Daryl said evenly, noting how the stoic face twitched at his assessment. “You get in this car and you got a place with us and that’s a sure thing. But you decide you wanna leave, I won’t stop you. Can you trust that?”

Rick’s eyes left him and the ex-sheriff let out a grunt as he hitched his daughter higher on his hip before lowering himself into the car, closing the door behind him.

 


	4. how to start (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Judith arrive in Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonky POVs throughout.

It was tense and hushed in the car when they finally pulled to a stop in front of the large steel gates of Alexandria some hours later.

Behind the wheel, Aaron pressed his hand to the horn in three short bursts before twisting the key out of the ignition and cutting off the hum of the engine. 

“This is it.” He said proudly, turning in his seat to beam at his passengers.

In the cradle of her father’s arms, Judith squirmed to get a better view.

They exited the car just in time to watch the gated fence rattle open, revealing an expanse of clean pavement leading to what looked to be a few blocks of cleared streets filled with lines of houses and buildings untainted by the dead. While Daryl and Aaron busied themselves with grabbing the gear and game from the boot of the car, Rick gathered Judith from the back seat and set her high on his hip, cooing a few hushed assurances into her ear.

Coming around the side of the car, his crossbow slung over his back along with Rick’s pack and the line of squirrels, Daryl caught sight of the moment and paused.

“Ain’t nothing living or dead getting through those walls without our knowing.” Daryl murmured, tone adamant.

Noticing the hunter, Rick nodded and made a move to reclaim the backpack, but Daryl waved him off and Aaron, already walking ahead of the group with Judith’s pack swinging from his free hand, called after them to get a move on.

They had just passed through the gate, when a burly husk of a voice greeted them.

“Well, howdy, gentlemen.” A ginger-haired man called out, his tone brisk and good humored. “Productive afternoon?”

“Good afternoon, Abraham.” Aaron said, amicably waving at the thickset man.

Abraham regarded the four of them with a slight smirk, his eyes lingering on Rick and Judith as they passed through the gate, his hand resting comfortably atop of the automatic strapped around his shoulder. 

There was no change in his quiet expression as Rick proceeded forward but the line of his shoulders belied a certain sort of tension and Judith squirmed in her father’s arms as his hold around her squeezed her beyond what was comfortable.

“Easy now, Abe.” Daryl growled out, providing a physical barrier between Rick and the ex-military man. “The man is road weary. Jumpy. You best give him some room.”

“He armed?”

Daryl jerked his chin up and down and Aaron chimed in with a quick, “We’re allowing it.”

“Well, ain’t that a goddamn turn up,” Abraham commented idly, a wry smile crossing his face. “But I suppose that is your call, Mr. Dixon.”

Hauling the gate closed behind them, Abraham slapped a hand against Daryl’s back in passing and strolled back to his post without another word, leaving them to their business. 

Rick watched him go, guarded, and only started moving again with some gentle prompting from Daryl.

“Thinkin’ we should take you ‘round to Glenn before gettin’ you settled.” Daryl said once they made it further up the street, chancing a nervous glance at the other man to catch his reaction.

On cue, Rick grunted something inaudible and slowed his pace.

“What’s the matter?”

Rick’s mouth quirked downward. “Is that necessary?” 

Daryl sighed. “Glenn runs things around here nowadays. Gotta run this by him, make sure he knows what’s going on.”

“What about my son?”

“We’ll have him sent ‘round to the house.” Aaron reassured him, scanning the area for a messenger.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl spotted one of the new supply runners walking through a construction site and quickly called him over. 

“Hey! You! Uh— Roberts.”

They exchanged a few rushed words between them, Daryl delivering a series of short, clipped instructions to the spotty teenager who nodded in understanding in slow rocks of his head, asking a couple of questions for himself before setting off down the street.

Daryl turned back to Rick.

“C’mon.” Daryl said, adjusting the pack around his shoulder, along with his crossbow. “Headquarters is this way.”

They walked a little further until they reached one of the larger houses at the end of the block. Aaron walked up the steps first and rapped his knuckles loudly against the wood. He had knocked on the door twice before it swung open, revealing a pale young woman with long dark hair.

She leaned against the doorframe and smiled easily at the curly haired man, unguarded in a way that was entirely foreign to Rick. She greeted Aaron warmly but casually, seemingly unaware of the visitors standing just beyond her line of sight.

Aaron offered her a polite smile. “Hello, Enid. Sorry if we’re intruding, but would you mind getting Glenn for me?”

“Why? What’s happened?” She asked, shifting from the doorframe to look around him, only just noticing the hunter standing further down the steps. “Daryl? What’s—”

Her mouth clicked shut at the sight of the man and his child, both still adorned in gore-smattered clothing and standing outside her home with an air of desperation and anxiety about them.

“Who are they?” She asked curiously, though a hint of an attitude caught in her tone. “Glenn has better things to do than processing newbies.”

“Now you listen, girl.” Daryl said, his voice taking on a harsher quality, responding to the young woman’s hostility with a taste of his own. “This ain’t no regular intake. You go grab Glenn and tell him we’ve found Rick Grimes and his little girl. And if you deem it worth your time to give a shit, you can tell him that they’re alive and well too.”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of understanding crossing her face.

“Holy shit— Does Carl know?” She asked and something about the familiar way she spoke of his boy bothered Rick.

Daryl nodded impatiently. “He’s on his way. Now go.”

The young woman blinked once, her eyes darting to Rick and then his daughter with a discomforting intensity before turning back into the house, leaving the door wide open for them to follow. 

Rick stayed close to Daryl’s side as they entered the house leaving hardly a foot between them, as if an invisible leash tethered them together and he dared not test its limits. Held tightly to her father’s chest, Judith shuffled in his arms, curiously taking in the lavished foyer, blue eyes wide with wonder. 

Daryl watched the pair evaluate their new environment and huffed out a breath when Rick’s gaze connected with his own, questioning and referential in a way that made Daryl feel decidedly uncomfortable. Cocking his head to the right, Daryl extended an arm to indicate the large sitting room that connected to the entryway. 

“Ya’ll can make yourself comfortable right in there. I’m gonna go check what grub I can rustle up for ya.” The hunter gave the recruiter a look. “Aaron?”

“Oh! Yes, right this way.”

Acting as their guide, Aaron led them into a large parlor and gestured to a long, leather couch situated at the center of the room. Rick settled down onto the cushion with some trepidation, his skin crawling as his back faced the open space of the dining room, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. The feeling abated somewhat when small arms looped around his neck and a smooth, baby-soft cheek rubbed against the side of his face as she rose in his grasp. He soaked in what comfort he could from the innocence of her touch before scolding her gently for putting her shoes on the furniture.

“Here.” Daryl huffed a minute later, placing two water bottles onto the coffee table in front of them. 

“Hold up a minute and I can have some soup heated up,” he said before he disappeared back down the hallway.

Across the coffee table, Aaron had settled into one of two armchairs that were placed near two large pillared bookcases, and in that overbearingly positive way of his, he smiled at Rick as though it were a comfort to be surrounded by happy people. Rick tried to busy himself by grabbing one of the bottles, twisting off the cap and handing it to Judith, who drank hastily. Once Judith had had her fill, she offered the bottle back to her father, pressing the opening into his peeling lips encouragingly. 

Aaron let out a small huff of laughter at the sight and Rick, whose tolerance was steadily decreasing, ignored it in favor of gulping down the remaining water. Water finished off, Rick’s eyes darted to the hallway as a new voice could be heard from further inside the house, familiar in a way that tickled at the back of his brain and after a little back and forth, it became clearer as its owner drew closer. 

“Aaron?”

“We’re in here!” Aaron called back.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the staircase and Rick rose from the couch to meet the man who would descend onto the landing, anxiety and hope bouncing around his chest as he waited for him to come into view. 

“Rick.”

Rick swallowed around the lump growing in his throat and blinked. 

Glenn’s eyes were warm but tired and brought with them a host of memories Rick could only half-recall, forced down so that they wouldn’t drown him. He looked older, jarringly so and his face had hardened, no longer boyish in the way he remembered. He stood straighter now and had a presence of command about him and Rick felt himself responding to the unspoken status, the urge to attack no longer burner hot but simmering.

Glenn had power, but in that moment, Rick’s gut told him that the other man wouldn’t use it to hurt him.

Glenn’s eyes flickered to the little girl still seated on the couch, peaking out from behind her father, and the careful blankness of his features softened and a look of true awe overtook his expression.

“Judith.”

Glenn approached them slowly, only coming as near as the coffee table between them allowed him. He looked relaxed despite his surprise and stood, marveling at them as though at any moment they could both disappear. 

The young woman from before came to hover behind Glenn, remaining at a distance from the rest of the group gathered, observing the situation with a mild look of interest. Inside, Rick felt himself bristle, despising the need to account for another questionable presence and wanting her gone.

“Can she leave?” He asked, registering the flash of something crossing her face before her expression evened out quickly.

Glenn frowned, looking back at the young woman before regarding Rick.

“She’s family,” Glenn replied evenly, looking as though he understood Rick’s concerns, but was unwilling to accommodate him, “Just like you’re family. She’ll keep her distance, but she stays.” He stopped there, letting the subject drop without another word of explanation.

Rick’s upper lip curled and he leveled the other man with a truly vicious look, but he backed down, sitting onto the couch, his displeasure clear. Picking up on the tension in the room, Judith wrapped herself around her father’s shoulder again, her eyes darting to Glenn with something cautious but curious.

“Our Glenn?” Judith whispered against her father’s ear, soft and hopeful. Rick hummed a quiet affirmative and watched as the younger man froze at the use of his name, a look of sadness twisting his features, his eyes clouding for a moment. After a few beats Glenn took a step back and dropped into the open armchair like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut.

“How?” Glenn stuttered out, uncertainty seeping into his voice. “No. No. Where. Where have you been this whole time? It’s been _three years_ , Rick. Three _years_.”

It was a fair enough question, but in that moment it felt too big for Rick, something beyond his scope, and Rick found it difficult to speak.

Glenn observed as Rick’s eyes went a little distant as he shifted his gaze just beyond Glenn’s right shoulder and maybe he was stepping into a different year or a different place, Glenn wasn’t sure. But when Rick didn’t answer immediately, just letting the silence drag a little too long, Glenn realized that he needed to backtrack.

“Wait. I’m sorry…” Glenn apologized. He shifted back into his chair, creating even more space between them as if out of consideration. “You don’t have to talk about it. I imagine this is probably a lot all at once.”

He didn’t offer Rick a smile in an attempt to coax out the words or flood him with words of comfort. Instead Glenn frowned and stared at the hardwood flooring for a moment, brow furrowing as though in concentration.

“I can sympathize.” He tried again. “Even with the evidence right in front of me, I’m having a hard time believing you two are really here right now.”

Rick swallowed and felt Judith’s hand on his arm, shaking him slightly, encouragingly. 

He took a deep breath and began to speak, even though the words felt wrong and disjointed coming out of his mouth.

“Georgia the first year or so.” He said, his throat dry and uncooperative. “Then went east, trying to get to the coast, but there wasn’t much there. In North Carolina we had a bad scare, had to put some distance between them and us so we headed north. Eventually ran out of gas and things to scavenge and were barely making it day to day…” 

He felt the edge of a migraine coming on as he reflected on how close to dying they had come.

Luckily at that moment Daryl interrupted, returning to the sitting room with a large bowl of what looked to be some kind of vegetable soup in hand, placing the food in front of Rick. 

“Should eat some more,” he mumbled before taking the wall to Rick’s right, standing at the opening to the hallway.

Rick nodded his thanks and took the spoon from the bowl, checking the temperature before offering the first bite to Judith, who steadied her father’s hand with her own as she slurped some broth from the utensil.

“Were you with anyone?” Glenn asked, observing Rick feed his daughter with something that looked oddly like longing.

“No.” Rick grunted, smearing his thumb against the corner of Judith’s mouth, catching a damp spot on her skin. “Just us. Nobody ever came along that wasn’t after what we had.”

Glenn wrangled his hands together, the gesture nervous and unlike him. “So you’ve been alone this whole time?”

And didn’t that question just set Rick off in the most terrible way.

“Of course, I was alone.” Rick snapped back, dropping the spoon back into the bowl and turning to face Glenn. “You all had fucked off to wherever it was you went and I wasn’t gonna let someone stupid and desperate take her from me. I wasn’t going to make that mistake.”

The anger felt good coursing through him, something familiar to grasp onto as his world tilted beneath him. Rick had been fueled by anger for so long that it hardly felt right to tamp it down and anything was better than confronting the revelation that while he had been barely keeping things together for the past three years of his life, they had been thriving without him, they had gotten lucky, _they hadn’t had to do it all by themselves_.

“But I did make mistakes out there,” Rick continued, feeding into his temper. “First one I made was searching for you. Stayed in Georgia longer than any sane person in my situation would have doing it, but I thought you were still there. Didn’t think I was looking for nothin’ more than a damn memory. Looks like you all got over me real fast though, settled in this cozy dreamland of yours. Must be easy to forget the ones you left behind that way.”

Rationally, he knew that he couldn’t blame them any of it, but fear had always teased out the crueler side of him and sitting there in that house, worried in the back of his mind over something as ridiculous as tracking guts and shit onto their nice decorative rug, Rick felt a savagery rise inside of him that had little to do with what he really thought and more to do with exacting as much damage on the other man as he could. 

Seething, a small part of him relished the wince of hurt Glenn let pass across his face and reveled in the soft noise of distress released by the hunter. Rick chanced a glance at Aaron who was watching Daryl with a look of concern. Beside him, Judith was quiet; her face buried into the crock of his neck, blocking out her father’s outburst but clinging to him all the same. And for a second Rick’s stomach sank and his anger cooled, wishing that he had reigned in his temper before it had had the chance to frighten her.

But then Rick remembered the young woman who was still standing there, like she belonged in this damn place, not uncomfortable at all watching this exchange and he was struck by how irritated he was that this stranger could listen to the story of his hell like it was entertainment. He was thinking about turning to her, turning to her and snapping that it wasn’t a _fucking_ game, that this wasn’t any of her damn business—

And then she was moving forward and Glenn’s eyes swung from Rick’s face to fixate on the movement and his voice was quiet and hard as he said, “Enid, don’t.”

“Why?” the young woman – Enid – said, “He’s your family.”

Glenn didn’t say anything after that, just looked at Enid hard like he was trying to figure something out. But Enid was looking at Rick and pulling something from her back pocket.

“Here,” She said, offering him what looked to be a pair of worn gloves.

Confused, Rick’s jaw tensed momentarily before he reached out to receive the item, turning the gloves over in his hands.

“I work in the orchards,” Enid said and even though her words meant little to him, Rick listened. “Not because I want to, but because I need to. I had a hard time adapting to… all of this.” She indicated the house, but it was clear that she was referring to Alexandria as a whole. “The day that I started Carl gave me those gloves… Said they had been his father’s…”

There was a long heavy pause and Rick felt himself lean forward despite himself, the urge to rip out her throat easing back, her words suddenly more precious than her demise.

She continued. “He told me about you, and it wasn’t like he was telling me in around about way either, like you were some lesson for me to learn. It was more like he was giving me something to bond with you over for when we finally met… It was weird. He never spoke about you like you were really gone.”

Against the neighboring wall, Daryl grunted something to soft too catch.

“They all talk about you like that from time to time.” She said, looking down to the floor nervously, as though she wasn’t used to speaking at such great lengths. “When Glenn taught me how to clean my gun, he mentioned you almost every other sentence, like you’d be quizzing me someday on proper procedure. Maggie was the same way…”

She threw Glenn an apologetic look but he just shook his head.

“My point is…” She started again, looking back to Rick with bright eyes. “… you got lost. But your people didn’t forgot you. You don’t know me, but because of them, I know you. And you know better than any of us that there’s little to be gained by wasting time over the dead.”

Feeling the monster inside of him retreat, his sharp gaze moving from Enid and back to Glenn, who was still broadcasting guilt in waves from across the room, Rick cocked his head to the side. “Explain it then,” he said. “What happened on your end?”

Glenn sighed tiredly and rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes.

“After the attack on the prison we were all scattered for awhile. Maggie was with Sasha and Bob and I got mixed up with another group of survivors who were moving in the same direction as me at the time. We got caught up at this place… Terminus.”

Glenn looked at Judith and bit his lip, his next words coming out clunky as though he was censoring himself. “They painted themselves as sanctuary but it wasn’t real. They… they went too far. There were lines they crossed. Things we’d never consider… never lower ourselves to.”

Glenn continued. “Carl, Michonne, and Daryl got rounded up eventually too. We were lucky when Carol and Tyreese attacked their base on a hunch and everyone got out okay. After that, some of the others convinced us to head up North, hoping to get to D.C., because there was talk about a cure. But that didn’t pan out and we got redirected here…”

Glenn’s words trailed off and he glanced at Daryl for a moment and then let his gaze drop to the floor.

“We didn’t all make it. Bob, Tyreese, Beth…” Glenn paused. “Later we lost Maggie too.”

Rick hadn’t wanted to think too heavily on her absence when Glenn had entered. Hadn’t wanted to question why it was some stranger answering the door and not the man’s wife. Some part of him had hoped and another part of him felt foolish for doing so. “What happened to her?”

“There was a war.” Glenn gritted his teeth as though the act of remembering pained him. “Another group tried to intimidate us into giving them half of what was ours and at the time we could hardly even feed ourselves, so we stood our ground and took the fight to them. We didn’t know what we were getting into and things got out of control pretty quickly. Their leader wanted to make an example of one of us, show us how things were going to be if we didn’t fall in line. This guy… he was sick in the head. Sadistic. He thought he could get us to behave if he killed our hope and… Maggie was 3 months pregnant at the time.”

Tears crept out from the corner of Glenn’s eyes, the last part bursting from him, almost as though by accident. Glenn paused and wiped a hand across his face, stemming his tears as well as his words before anymore could escape without his permission. It didn’t take him long to sort himself out, his composure emended with a couple of deep breaths.

“They got what they deserved in the end.” He concluded.

“Glenn—” Rick said, feeling the acute ache of another loss curl in his abdomen. “I’m sorry.”

Glenn met his gaze and nodded once, looking steadier. “Thanks, Rick.”

“So you’re in charge?” Rick asked, afraid to linger too long in the unhappy memories of the past.

“Maggie was.” It surprised Rick how easily he could say her name when clearly the wound was so fresh. “But then when there was nobody to lead I ended up filling in and then stuck around after to organize the rebuilding. No one has asked me to step down, so I haven’t and I wouldn’t want to. To be honest, I need the distraction to keep going some days.”

Rick understood the notion all too well.

Almost feeling at ease, the sound of a door bursting open and slamming shut had Rick almost instantly on his feet, conversation and meal temporarily forgotten as his hand slid down to wrap around the hilt of his knife. 

Enid jolted at the noise too and eyed Rick’s weapon worriedly before disappearing back into the hallway.

Words were exchanged, hushed and bitten off.

A split second later, a young man rounded the corner of the parlor, long brown hair obscuring a lightly freckled face and Rick couldn’t hold back the broken sob that tore loose as eyes the same shade of blue as his own locked onto him, wide and hopeful and filled with tears.

“Dad?” Carl breathed, tone wondering and wrecked.


	5. how to start (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Judith are reunited with loved ones.

 

He was so much taller than Rick remembered, filled out with lean muscle but lanky in the way most teenagers were. Rick knew him on sight; felt him in his bones as he greedily looked over the young man, laughter lodging in his throat when he noticed the sheriff’s hat perched atop his head.

“Carl.” Rick stuttered and if it weren’t for the hands grasping at the back of his shirt, tugging insistently, he would have continued to float in that hazy fog of disbelief clouding his head. 

Never letting his eyes leave the vision of his son, Rick hoisted the little girl up with a faint grunt of effort, and swayed forward.

Carl’s gaze snapped to the blonde child hanging from his father’s arms. “Judith?”

“Carl!” She yelled excitedly, her own arms opening wide, reaching out for her brother.

Restraint out the window, they came together in a clash, arms wrapping tightly around whatever part of the other person they could grasp onto, tears streaming unchecked as their small family was reunited.

“You’re here, you’re here…” Rick chanted in a low voice, relief pouring over him in waves, the cracks in his nerves knitting back together at the feeling of his son in his arms once again.

They were almost the same height now, Carl resting his head against his father’s shoulder, his breath coming out in stuttered exhalations. 

“I knew it. Knew you weren’t gone.” He insisted, tearfully.

Carl pulled back and trailed his fingers through his sister’s hair in slow passes and smiled wetly when she reached out to him to do the same.

“I couldn’t let myself believe that anything really bad had happened, you know?”

He sniffed loudly and looked at his father, studying his face, his own lips wobbling slightly. “When Michonne found me after the attack, she told me she had seen you running back into the prison to find Judith… so I thought all we had to do was wait. But then Daryl turned up, and we found Glenn and Maggie and then everyone was back except for you. And then they wanted to push north, but I didn’t want to leave without you. I wanted to stay and I— I should have.” 

Carl scowled darkly and he repeated the words with an ugly kind of loathing. “I should have waited. I should have—”

“No.” Rick reassured his son, using his free hand to hook some fingers under his boy’s chin, lifting his face. “You did good. You did so good, Carl.” He brushed the tears away with his thumb and felt a sort of levity overtake him suddenly. 

“Look at you.” Rick hadn’t known that he could still smile so big. “You’re all grown now.”

The sour expression on his face melted away and Carl grinned back, blue eyes bright with good humor.

“Me?” Carl gave a wet chuckle and laid his eyes on Judith, so different from the baby he had known back at the prison. “What about you, Judy. You’re so big now!”

Judith grinned, wide and cheesy in a way that crinkled her eyes and put dimples in her cheeks. “Big _and_ strong.”

They laughed and if Rick could he would bottle this moment, this feeling of completeness that was pouring over him like steady rainfall, and he would live inside of it and be content for the rest of his days.

“I could…” Carl sniffed, wiping his face again. “I could show you around Alexandria maybe? You and Judy.”

“Yeah,” Rick nodded, but a moment later hesitation spread across his face, his neck straining so as to meet Daryl’s gaze. 

Even basking in the glow of his son’s presence, an unsettling feeling washed over Rick at the thought of exploring the compound without Daryl by his side and, remembering the accusatory nature of his earlier words, Rick worried that the other man would try and maintain an unnecessary distance.

Fortunately, Carl shifted in his father’s grasp and turned to the hunter as well. “Daryl, you going to tag along?”

Daryl, who had been standing silently in the background up until that point, jerked his chin up. “I won’t be too far behind you.”

“Did you guys want to finish up before we go?” Carl asked, still wiping at his blotchy eyes, looking to Glenn now.

Having risen from his armchair, Glenn shuffled uncertainly, like he was revving himself up for something.

“Nothing we can’t talk about tomorrow.” Glenn replied easily before hesitating again.

“Hey man, I’m glad you’re all right—” Slouched shoulders and hands casually tucked into the pockets of his pants, Glenn’s eyes seemed to struggle to meet Rick’s for a moment, but when they did and it was Rick who wanted to look away, unable to process the guilt-ridden gaze staring back at him. “I’m going to do what it takes to make things right between us.”

Rick pulled back from Carl with some reluctance and turned to address the leader, biting down on his bottom lip viciously. Regret and gratitude and joy were all vying for expression on his face, but that wasn't enough to convey what needed to be said.

It was difficult to find the right words, and even more difficult to say them.

Rick coughed and looked over Glenn’s head.

“We're good.” Rick rasped, his words gravely and barely describable. “You're here now. That' what matters to me now.”

Glenn nodded, smiling. “Bye Judith.”

“Bye bye, Glenn.” The little girl flapped her hand at the man shyly as she was carried away.

Rick trailed behind Carl as they left the house, noticing how his son and Enid shared a few whispered words before departing down the porch steps. Eyeing the young woman curiously, Rick followed, Judith settled high on his hip and Daryl behind him. 

Once outside, Daryl handed Carl Judith’s pack.

“Aaron’s gonna head home, you mind carrying your sister’s things?” Daryl asked.

Carl took the pack without complaint and eagerly pulled his father along, leading them around the protected streets, Daryl hanging back a few yards to allow the family their privacy.

Dropping his voice, Carl spoke first. “So, how are you doing with all of this really?”

“What d’you mean?” Rick asked, not understanding.

Carl tilted his head up at the sky and shrugged. “It’s been a few years, but I remember what it was like when we came here. Things are too pretty and clean. The people were too friendly.” 

He looked at his father again, knowingly. “Weak.” 

Around them, a few Alexandrians strolled along the streets, regarding the family of three with varying degrees of interest, Carl waving off anyone who tried to invade their space. Rick’s attention wandered to them as they walked and he understood what Carl meant. They looked fed and carefree and walked around like this was the life that was owed to them. Like they didn’t understand that this was the kind of life you had to _take_.

“It’s not like how it is out there…” Carl continued. “And even though it’s better, that doesn’t mean you understand it. I didn’t trust any of this at first. Didn’t take my knife off except to shower for the first 4 months and even then I found myself spending more and more time outside the walls, just so I knew that I could.”

Carl’s hand came up to tug at his father’s wrist, requesting his attention. The move was unexpected and Rick made the mistake of looking Carl head on.

“I want you to be honest with me.”

Carl was watching him carefully and Rick should have known that his son was too observant for him to hide anything anyway.

Swallowing hard, Rick looked down at his feet. “I don’t trust this place.”

“That’s okay.” And the way he said it made it seem like it really was.

“Carl.” Rick continued, wanting to be clear, daring to look up. “I don’t know about them, but I trust _you_.”

And Carl smiled, his face brightening, looking so much like his mother in that moment that Rick’s heart ached.

“Okay.” 

They continued making their way around the safe-zone with a little more ease, Carl pointing out the buildings as they went. They passed by the infirmary and an apple orchard before arriving at a patch of cleared field with an array of targets set up in the distance and a large shed near the wall.

“Even though we’ve cleared a lot of the surrounding area pretty thoroughly in the past year we still need to maintain a strong defense against raiders and have our supply runners trained.” Carl explained as they reached the edge of what must have been the training grounds. “We have a shooting range just over there, so that people can practice, and every other day we teach groups on weapon use and maintenance, some hand-to-hand combat, and other useful tactical skills. We’re in peacetimes right now, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready for the worst.”

Carl wiggled his fingers into his sister’s side, tickling her. “Maybe I could teach you how to use a gun, Judy.”

Judith giggled and pushed his hand away. “I already know how.”

Carl sent his father a look, which Rick shrugged off. “She could use a tip or two.”

The light was rapidly fading from day as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the streets in a strange hue of rosy gold by the time they finished touring the town. Leading them back to one of the blocks of houses, Carl pointed to the third one down.

“That’s where Daryl, Michonne, and I have been staying since we got here. It’s huge, so there’s like 3 extra bedrooms that no one is even using.”

“We’re staying _here_?” Judith asked, her jaw dropping.

Rick couldn’t blame her. The house seemed like the size of a small mansion if anything.

They were climbing up the steps to the front porch when the door opened and a woman exited, head down as she moved across the threshold. 

She looked exactly as Rick remembered her, long locs swept back beneath a colorful headband, long-limbed and lethal as she moved gracefully into the pink light of dusk, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. She tilted her head up, a greeting on her lips before she got a proper view of her guests, the words forgotten in her shock. Freezing, her eyes widened, her body tensing for a second before somehow, incredibly, easing back.

Like a deer in headlights, Rick felt his body lock up under her gaze, unable to recover quite as quickly at the sight of her.

“Hi, Rick.” She said, her voice wondering but restrained in a way that Rick was grateful for. Michonne had always had a talent for reeling herself in, even in times of crisis or confusion.

“Hi.” He stuttered back, his words once again failing him.

She looked at Judith, the little girl clutching at her father’s pant legs from just behind him, another stranger in her midst leaving her wary.

The carefully blank look on Michonne’s face fell and suddenly she was grinning from ear to ear, the brightness of her smile breathtaking.

“Hello.” She greeted warmly, her eyes on Judith.

Judith pressed her face into Rick’s leg shyly, but peeked out enough so that her voice wasn’t completely muffled. “Hello.”

“I—” Michonne started, her brow furrowing as though trying to collect her thoughts. “I am genuinely beyond happy to see you both.”

She looked past them for a moment, gaze flitting off to connect with the hunter who had trailed behind them up to that point.

“I’ve got watch duty tonight,” She said, her lips pursing slightly, looking thoroughly displeased. “But I’ll see you all in the morning, okay?”

“Keep us safe.” Daryl grunted, nodding at her.

“Always do.” She returned in the same beat.

The woman turned back to Rick and his daughter and looked them once over again, relief and disbelief melded in her expression. She nodded once and then moved passed them.

“ ‘Chonne.” Carl called out as she walked down the steps, extending his hand to her. 

They connected their palms in a low five, the movement practiced and smooth, and she turned to look at his son over her shoulder with a barely there smirk.

“See you later, cowboy.” She said before disappearing down the street and toward the outpost.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You and Michonne…” Rick began uncertainly a while later. Carl had insisted on showing them around the house first before bringing them to the spacious kitchen on the ground floor. Containers littered the marbled counters, leftovers of spaghetti and roasted vegetables left open and free for Rick and Judith’s perusal. Daryl had wandered off at some point and when Rick had worriedly asked where the hunter had gone, Carl had shrugged it off, saying something about stepping out for a cigarette or something.

“She’s pretty much my best friend….” Carl said, shrugging from where he stood behind the kitchen island, keeping watch on Judith from where she sat on the ledge. “I remember that day when we went on our first run with her to King County, you know? I didn’t know what you re were trying to do at the time, but I understand now why you sent her off with me. And it was the best thing you could’ve done for me in hindsight. I don’t know if I could have been okay with everything if it wasn’t for her.” 

The words hung in the air where Carl had tossed them and Rick listened to their echoes until his head buzzed.

“She’s been a good friend, Dad.” Carl said when his father had remained silent.

“That’s good.” Rick said, coming back to himself. “I’m glad.”

Carl moved around the counter, looking for a distraction, and stopped by a covered container, which he opened to reveal a few rows of stacked cookies. He lifted one of the cookies up, a strange pink tint in its coloring, and offered it to his father. “Try one. Carol made them. They’re not… terrible.” 

Just then the kitchen door opened and Rick managed not to flinch as Daryl stepped back into the house, the last dying light of the sun long gone from the sky.

“You’re lookin’ dead on you feet.” The hunter directed at Carl, who had just been suppressing a long yawn behind his hand. “Go turn in for the night, I’ll help your daddy get settled.”

“You sure?”

“Course.”

“Okay then.” Carl handed over the cookie, which Rick took for a lack of knowing what else to do. 

“Goodnight, Dad.” The young man wrapped his arms around his father and squeezed him tightly. 

“Night, Judy.” Carl walked over to the counter where she sat and placed a loud kiss on her forehead. “I’m just down the hallway if you need anything.”

Judith called out a loud ‘goodnight’ after her brother and then fussed for Rick to take her down from the ledge. Handing her the cookie Carl had offered him, Rick observed Daryl as he put away the containers of leftover food and followed him with Judith in tow when the other man gestured to the staircase.

Daryl led them up the flight of steps and down the hallway, pushing open one of the doors.

Inside, the room was extravagant but sterile. A thick, ornate rug covered the floorboards, and dominating the room was a large, comfortable-looking bed piled high with pillows and cushions in rich shades of purple and turquoise.

“The bathroom is right across the hall.” The hunter explained as he opened the door, chewing at his thumbnail as he spoke. “There are spare clothes for both of you in the cabinet and fresh towels on the rack. Water gets pretty hot, so go nuts.”

Rick barely heard him. He felt as though he had stepped into one of the fairy tales Judith was so fond of, the ones about royalty, sprawling castles and lavished banquets, four poster beds and fine silks. 

“Where do you sleep?” He asked, apropos of nothing.

“What?” Daryl looked at him, confused.

“Where do you sleep?” Rick repeated the question, cheeks darkening. “I— I was wondering if we could spend the night with you tonight? If that’s okay…”

Daryl regarded the other man and saw the embarrassment that weighed heavily in the hunch of shoulders and the fear the made his eyes shine like glass in the dim light. Wanting to undo that discomfort, Daryl approached Rick with a hard-learned patience until he was close enough to carefully place a hand on his elbow. 

Every muscle in Rick’s body begged him to jump away from the touch that wasn’t Judith or Carl, but he focused on the kind blue eyes that remained fixed to his, and held his breath as the hunter began to guide him down the hallway. 

It wasn’t as though Daryl’s room was much different from the one they had been shown, but Rick felt himself calm in increments as he took in the details of the other man’s space.

The walls had been papered with a floral print that had both faded and yellowed with time. The only features of note were the large bed pushed into the corner, made up with pillows and a flowing blue duvet, and against the far wall was the sizeable bureau, the cherry wood matching the bedframe. A mirror was braced onto the top portion of the dresser and through it, Rick watched as Daryl’s expression morphed into one of understanding.

Daryl hovered listlessly as Rick examined the room, checking the latch on the window and the contents of the closet before gathering Judith close to him, his hard expression softening to a look of confusion that seemed to be permanently affixed to his face since his arrival.

“You both are taking the bed tonight. I ain’t gonna hear otherwise.” The look of confusion only sharpened and Daryl immediately waved off the protest he saw forming on the other man’s lips. “Sleep better on the cot anyway.”

In the end, Rick didn’t argue and when Daryl suggested that the two take advantage of the shower, he was quick to accept. They left the room with a change of clothing that Daryl had rustled up and made their way back to the hallway bathroom, Daryl reminding them to call out if they needed anything.

Nodding in understanding, Rick shut the door and was relieved when the buzzing in his head stopped for the first time since their arrival, finally alone except for Judith who had moved to sit at the edge of the tub, feet dangling against the basin.

Rick glanced at himself in the mirror over the sink and was taken aback at the mess he saw there.

“What do you think of this place?” Rick asked, nails scraping roughly against the thick patch of hair obscuring his face, globs of something coming off onto his fingers.

“It’s nice.” Judith said, undoing the laces on her boots with some difficulty. “Everything is. The food, the houses, the people.”

Rick abandoned the mirror and bent low to assist her. “It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

It took a few minutes for the water to run hot and in the meantime he methodically stripped out of his clothes and helped Judith do the same, leaving the ruined garments in a pile off in the far corner of the bathroom. Together, they stepped into the basin and allowed themselves to soak in the warm stream of the spray, luxuriating under the decadent heat. Sharing the bar of soap and bottle of shampoo between them, Rick helped Judith work the suds from her hair and the grime from her skin before shutting off the water and wrapping her in one of the fluffy towels hanging from the rack. Reluctantly stepping out of the basin as well, Rick quickly toweled off and slid on a fresh pair of boxers, not bothering with more for the time being.

Digging around in the drawers under the sink, Rick found a pair of grooming shears and set about tackling the wild thing growing on his face, trimming his beard down to something manageable, hair gathering in the sink as he worked. Snipping the scissors playfully at Judith once he had finished, he asked her if she wanted a trim as well and the little girl giggled, shaking her head, sending drops of water flying everywhere.

After cleaning up, they dressed in the clothing Daryl had left them quickly and headed back to Daryl’s room. Rick knocked on the door, hovering a little uncertainly in the doorway like he wasn’t entirely sure what it was that he was doing there.

Daryl invited them back in, calling out from inside, and Rick was surprised to see the other man sat on the corner of the bed, book laying in his lap, perhaps reading in their absence.

Daryl watched Rick closely as he reentered the bedroom.

Free of the blood and scum that covered his face, Rick looked like a different man. His hair was still wet, curling around the back of his neck, shaggy and hanging down past his jaw. The scars on his face, near his mouth, the bridge of his nose, under his eye were new.

The cut above his check looked fresh and irritated.

“We have medical supplies, you know? First aid. That cut—” Daryl gestured at Rick’s check. “That’s got infection written all over it. I could…”

Rick rocked on the balls of his feet nervously, but nodded, hesitantly rounding the corner of the bed before sitting on the edge, near the hunter. Judith climbed onto the mattress after him, her skin scrubbed pink, dressed in a shirt at least three size too big for her, the hem hanging past her knees. 

Gathering the kit, Daryl soaked a rag with antiseptic and gently dabbed the scabbed wound, hissing sympathetically through his teeth at the burn he was sure accompanied his actions. Unless Rick submitted to stitches the wound would scar and for a split second Daryl considered dragging Rick out to Denise and demand that she take a look at him before thinking better of it. Instead, Daryl dressed the cut with a couple of butterfly bandages and removed his hands from the other man soon after, painfully aware how Rick’s posture relaxed immediately as his personal space was restored. 

Daryl pulled back a little to get a proper look at Rick’s face. “Good as new.”

Rick tilted his head upward a little, letting his eyes skitter across Daryl’s cheekbones instead of making direct eye contact, and angled his shoulders just slightly inward. He grunted something that must have been a thanks.

“You need any of the supplies for Judy?” Daryl asked, holding the kit out for Rick to take if he chose to.

Rick stared at the offering and then up at Daryl before shaking his head slowly.

“Checked her in the bathroom. Didn’t see anything.” He said simply.

Rick’s eyes were as blue as Daryl remembered them, but there were dark shadows under them now. He looked tired in a way that a good night’s sleep wasn’t going to fix.

“My Daddy told me all about you, you know?” Judith said, capturing Daryl's attention away from her father. She had rolled over onto her back and was looking at Daryl upside down.

“Did he?” Daryl asked carefully, setting the first aid aside.

“Yeah. Said you was the best hunter he’d ever seen.” Her voice rose with her excitement and she rolled back onto her stomach, bouncing on the bed a little bit.

A shadow of a smile crossed Daryl’s face. “You like hunting, Judy?”

The blonde girl shrugged, her lips forming into a small pout. “M’not very good at it yet. But I caught a frog once. And some worms. I’m good at finding worms.”

“Worms are good.” Daryl reassured her easily. “You gotta start small, then you get better.”

Rick watched the interaction with an intense focus, unused to others being allowed that closeness with his daughter. And maybe this was one of those instances in which he was meant to help foster Judith’s budding relationship with Daryl, but the act of speaking any more that night seemed too daunting to even consider. Something must have shown on his expression because suddenly Daryl was off the bed and pulling a folded cot out of the small closet.

“Should sleep. Been a long day.” He murmured, setting the frame down nearest the door, and Rick got the feeling the placement wasn’t coincidental.

Grateful as he was, Rick still couldn’t find the words to express it.

“Night, Daryl.” Judith lisped, bunching up the blankets so she could slip under them, blonde wisps of hair mussed on top of the pillow behind her.

“G’night, lil’ lady.” Daryl answered back, his voice pitched slightly higher than it normally was, almost fond.

Daryl cut the lights and Rick listened to the sounds of him shuffling back to his cot, the metal frame squeaking softly as he lay down.

Eventually, Rick curled into the warm blankets, wrapping Judith and himself in a soft down comforter that smelled of lilac fabric softener. 

Exhaustion overcame wariness and he slept.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Rick startled awake expecting pain, but all his bleary mind could register was warmth and something soft beneath his cheek. 

Blinking into the pitch black of the bedroom, Rick worried that he had lost his mind because he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he had ended up here. His face was mashed into an airy pillow and his body enveloped by sheets, and a small, warm body pressed into his back. And then movement from the floor caught his eye and he found himself staring at a barrel-chested figure slumped on a cot next to the bed, familiar locks of dark brown hair obscuring most of the man’s face as he slept.

“Daryl.” Rick whispered, crawling out from under the blankets and crouching beside the cot. “Daryl?”

The hunter jerked awake, a hand instinctively shooting out to grip at Rick’s wrist, holding him. Not pulling, not squeezing, just holding. Rick looked down at the cuff of fingers pressed into his skin and forced himself to relax. To accept the touch. 

Daryl’s voice was groggy but concerned when he spoke. “Rick, everything okay?”

“It really is you.” Rick said. 

He curled his own fingers reflexively around Daryl’s outstretched arm, noting how the other man allowed him the same liberties with his personal space. If he remembered correctly, they had shared more than just space before all this. They had been close like this in another life.

“Did you forget where you were?” Daryl asked after a moment of silence, understanding in his voice.

Yes and no. 

Rick had forgotten, but that wasn’t why he was there, kneeling beside his friend in the dead of night after what had probably been one of the most mentally exhausting days of his life. 

No, that wasn’t it at all. 

He had woken up and Daryl had been where he had left him. He had been there, breathing and bright-eyed, and _real_. Not just some figment of Rick’s twisted and yearning imagination. Not another Lori to haunt him with his mistakes and failures. Not just another dead thing trying to consume him.

“I missed you.” He answered, bypassing Daryl’s question completely. 

Rick knew he wasn’t making sense. He was tired. He was in shock. He needed to go back to bed.

It occurred to Rick how he must look just then. Skin waxy and damp with sweat, eyes manic and too bright in the blackness of the room.

“M’sorry.” He apologized, loosening his grip before trying to pull away all together. “Shouldn’t ha—”

“Hey.” Daryl said softly, cutting him off. There was a strange look in his eyes and the hand still holding Rick in place squeezed him gently. “I missed you too. Missed you both like hell.”

Rick looked down at the hand on his wrist, uncomfortable with such blunt admissions of feelings, but relieved all the same. He nodded.

“Goodnight,” Rick whispered, getting to his feet, the fingers around his wrist parting as he rose, releasing him.

The ex-sheriff settled back onto the mattress, careful not to disturb Judith as he curled around her again.

He closed his eyes and let himself float in the dark place behind his eyelids, contented and calmed.

“G’night, Rick.” Daryl whispered into the silence a moment later.

Rick hummed and drifted.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The house had already awakened when Rick eventually crawled out of bed many hours later. 

Sunlight filtered in past the curtains and a breeze rustled from the open window.

At some point Daryl had managed to sneak out without disturbing either of them, Judith still soundly sleeping beside him, cuddled into his side. 

He was surprised at how comfortable he had felt letting Daryl see him so exposed and vulnerable. It had felt familiar. But now, with Daryl off somewhere else, Rick felt the creeping uncertainty of their situation loom back to the forefront of his thoughts. He had half a mind to keep them secluded to the bedroom until Daryl came to fetch them, but there were wonderful smells of food wafting through the door and his stomach growled loudly. 

Coaxing Judith awake with the tickle of raspberry kisses against her stomach, Rick got them both dressed in the clothes Daryl had lent them the night before and cautiously lead them both downstairs.

As though hearing their approach, Daryl met them at the bottom of the landing outside the kitchen, bottom lip caught in the grip of his teeth and a look of chagrin on his face as he greeted them.

“I know you’re still settling and all, but there are a few people here who’d really like to see you.” He murmured, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Thought you’d like to see them too.”

Sure enough, Rick could hear the soft rumble of chatter just beyond the stairwell, and his pulse jumped out of habit.

Daryl continued to speak, perhaps picking up on Rick’s unease. “You can tell me if it’s too much. This doesn’t need to happen now, it’s just— they want to see that you’re okay. And uh, don’t worry. Ain’t nobody going to run up on you or try to touch you without you initiating. We understand what’s it like, coming from out there into… _this_.” 

When Rick didn’t say anything, Daryl knelt in front of Judith and offered her a small smile. “Hey lil’ lady. You hungry?”

“Yeah!” She squeaked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

“Well, that’s good. Carl just made way too many pancakes for me to eat by myself. Gonna need your help on this one.”

Judith scrunched her nose and looked up at her father.

“Daddy, what are pancakes?”

Rick looked down at his daughter, amusement peeking through his stony expression. “They’re good. Sweet. Maybe we could put more of that applesauce on them for you.”

Judith turned her attention back to Daryl and nodded. “Okay, I’ll help,” she said seriously.

Daryl raised his hand up. “Cool. Can I get a high five?”

Judith looked to Rick again and he mimicked the motion for her, which she copied, clapping her hand against Daryl’s.

Daryl rocked back into standing position and regarded Rick with another questioning look. “This okay, Rick? You can say no.”

“No. I want to see them, it’s just…” False assurances were at the tip of his tongue, but the words wouldn’t come. “I don’t know.”

Rick shook his head, but motioned for Daryl to show them the way.

Judith was a silent shadow at his side as they moved into the kitchen, her small hand clutching his as though she was worried he would disappear if she let go. The soft chatter that had filled the room only seconds before petered out as all eyes fell on them, familiar faces regarding him and his daughter as they eased themselves closer.

“Morning.” Carl greeted pleasantly, approaching the pair first.

He opened his arms to his father, who accepted the hug gratefully, pulling the young man in before letting him go to greet his sister.

“How’d you sleep, Judy?” Carl asked, crouching into his haunches, reaching out to tweak her nose playfully.

Judith squealed and swatted at him, giggling. She smiled at Carl, but her expression blanked when she was reminded that they weren’t alone. 

“The bed was really soft.” She said quietly, like the words were only for him. “I could have slept forever.”

“That’s good. I made everyone some breakfast. Want me to make you a plate?”

“Daddy too.” She insisted.

Carl laughed. “Don’t worry. Dad’ll get some too.”

Carl looked up at his father then and Rick understood the question there and shook his head.

He reached down and took Judith’s hand.

“We got to say hi to a couple of people first, baby.”

Daryl watched enraptured, as Rick led his daughter over to the small group gathered beyond the kitchen island, tentative in his approach, but less fearful than Daryl had anticipated.

“Carol.”

“Rick.”

Carol kept her arms by her side, but Daryl noticed the twitch of her fingers and the strained expression on her face that said she was fighting back the instinct to touch. Luckily for her, Rick seemed to be losing a similar battle as his hand rose tentatively and hovered near the edge of her shoulder before lightly grasping her to him, tugging her closer. Tears sprung from her eyes as she cautiously brought her own hand up, returning the gesture on his opposite arm. Surprising her even more, Rick dipped his head and released what could only be described as a whine into her shoulder, low and wounded and unexpected.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathed.

“Oh Rick…” She squeezed his arm; thumb soothing over his shirt in comforting little circles. “Don’t be.”

“No.” His head tilted up again, revealing glassy, imploring eyes. “I— I didn’t realize how cruel it was… What I did to you. I didn’t know—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Rick.” She let her eyes study his face for a moment, taking him in. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and then remembered Judith, who was still hiding behind him.

“Judy, sweetie.” He coaxed gently. “This is Carol. Remember what I told you about her?”

“She’s shy.” Rick explained when Judith remained hidden behind his legs. “Seeing y’all is like seeing Santa Claus for her.”

Hearing his voice clearly, no growl sharpening the words, conversational rather than forced out of necessity sent a strange jolt through Daryl’s body. 

Judith reached for Rick, who took her instantly, hiking her onto his hip with a practiced ease.

“You remember Michonne from last night?”

Rick continued to re-introduce Judith to the group, seemingly eager to reconnect with the others, but at a lost on how to do so. He held the hand not holding his daughter loosely at his sides but the line of his shoulders told Daryl that he was distinctly uncomfortable standing in the small group, even as he tried to participate the best that he could. He had a shielded expression and a way of being very still that suggested that he was concerned about somehow drawing too much attention to himself. 

Daryl took a plate of pancakes over to them after awhile, not wanting the other man to forget his or his daughter’s appetite. And Rick ate, sharing bites with Judith as he continued reacquainting himself with Michonne and then Sasha and then Glenn and Carol again. 

Rick was still trying to remain calm and collected when the sound of the door opening sent him into a fresh wave of anxiety.

“Gabriel…” Sasha said, moving away from Rick to stall the intruder, a man dressed in all black except for the white collar around his neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man.” Glenn tried, peeling away as well when the priest simply sidestepped Sasha and continued to make his way into the house. “This isn’t the right time. You need to go.”

“Nonsense,” the man said, seemingly unaware of the scene he was making. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“No, man. Listen…”

Rick palmed the handle of the knife at his belt and guided Judith behind him protectively, the little girl moving without complaint, her own eyes fixated on the quiet commotion across the room. Rick set their plate aside.

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed him when she noticed the change in his stance and the sharp hunted look in his eyes. “He’s harmless. You’re fine.”

He acknowledged her words with a quick glance to his side, but the hand by his belt still hovered at the ready and Daryl found himself unable to stick to the sidelines any longer when the need for damage control seemed to be exponentially increasing. 

“You must be Rick.” Gabriel greeted, having managed to push his way passed Glenn as well, and who now stood just behind the priest ready to intercept, a deep-set frown marring his expression.

“I don’t know you.” Rick grunted, expression hard and uninviting.

“Oh, that was rude of me.” The priest commented, seemingly oblivious or uncaring to the other man’s disinterest. “My name is Gabriel. It was your group here that took me in and brought me to Alexandria in the first place.”

Rick remained silent and stared.

Gabriel’s bravado dampened at the nonresponse, but he just kept talking, rambling as his nerves grew. “I just wanted to say, if you ever wanted to talk about your… about anything… Whenever you’re ready, we have a church…”

“I’m not much of a believer.” Rick interrupted, his lip curling. “Belief never kept my little girl from sufferin’.”

“Believe it or not, we are all still the children of God, Rick.” Gabriel replied back, smiling somehow.

The deflection turned Rick even colder inside

“I don’t know what you’re looking to get from me, but you probably ain’t going to get it.” His voice was tightening and the line of his throat moved as he swallowed with a wet click.

And Gabriel continued speaking, ignoring every red flag that was being raised right in front of him. “I’m a man of faith. I’m not one to give up too easily.”

Then the other man’s hand came up without warning, as though to rest on Rick’s shoulder, moving too close to the vulnerable expanse of his neck, and like that, Rick’s vision whited out. 

Rick’s body went stiff beneath the touch immediately, going rigid and tense as a growl, low and guttural, ripped from his throat. His fingers curled around the hilt of his knife, his intentions clear, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and pulled, breaking his grasp and sending his mind into a panic. 

“Get him out of here!” Someone shouted and Rick felt his insides turn to ice. 

They were sending him away. 

They’d keep Judith and lock him out.

They were going to take her, they were going to…

For a minute, he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. A weight bore down on him, immobilizing him, pressure on his neck and chest. A hiss in his ear— “ _Rick_.”

He recognized the voice and suddenly words poured out of him in a stream of desperate pleas, his eyes darting around the room to spot his daughter amongst the group.

“Give her back, please. Please, let me have her. Judith? Where’d you take her? Please. Please…”

In the midst of the scuffle she had somehow ended up on the other side of the room, her brother minding her with a look of concern on his face.

“She’s right here, Dad.” Carl reassured his father quickly, approaching him from across the room with a visibly startled Judith clutching to his shirt from the safety of his arms.

Behind him, Daryl released his hold and Rick used his new freedom of movement to snatch the little girl from his son, cradling her to him and for a split second suspended in time nothing existed for him except for Judith’s warm weight in his arms.

Nobody could even blame him when Rick disappeared upstairs after that, Judith in tow. And when Carl went to check on them an hour later, he found the door locked.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Tea?” Gabriel offered eventually when the silence stretched too long, moving to disappear into the modest living quarters hidden at the back of the church.

Daryl didn’t actually give a shit if Gabriel was going off to boil water or stick his dick into the oven, but he shook his head in acknowledgement, eyes never leaving the priest’s face.

Gabriel looked at him for a moment, his hands nervously rubbing together before he smiled abruptly and said, “Right then!” He turned promptly to busy himself with the kettle, leaving Daryl alone in the front of the church.

“I didn’t think it would be a big thing,” Gabriel began without prompting as he reentered the room a few minutes later, two chipped mugs in hand. He tried to hand one off to Daryl but the other man declined with another shake of his head. Gabriel held the second mug awkwardly and continued to explain himself. “I just wanted to see the man that was sleeping under the same roof as Michonne and Carl… Get a feel for him. Make sure he was above board.”

Daryl turned toward him, eyebrows furrowing briefly in irritation before he spoke, “You shouldn’t have come to the house today. This was a family matter.” The man was so goddamn infuriating— sometimes Daryl marveled at the fact that he had even managed to survive long enough for them to rescue him from that godforsaken boulder all those years ago. “You had no right to include yourself.”

Usually cowed by the other man’s anger, Gabriel seemed uncharacteristically unconvinced by the hunter and frowned. “That man is clearly unstable and yet takes care of a small child. Is that something you are honestly okay with?”

Daryl stared at him balefully for a long moment, seething at the implication.

“You’re making a lot of assumptions about something you don’t know shit all about.” Daryl shot back, the memory of Carl sitting dejectedly in the hallway outside of Daryl’s room still fresh in his mind.

“That _man_ has lived through hell, alone, and the fact that he _still_ managed to raise that little girl anywhere near half decent ain’t nothin’ to raise your noise at. If you go at him anything like you did today and he tries to kill ya, I’m not gonna lose sleep over it. On the one fucking day he needed to feel safe in this community, you barge in and impose yourself on him, like he gives a shit who you are when for the last three years he ain’t even seen his own son.”

That seemed to get through to him and suddenly the priest looked repentant, his eyes lowering.

“You better pray Rick leaves that bedroom by the end of the day,” Daryl snarled, taking his leave.

“I’d do anything for that man and his little one. And that includes beating the living shit out of you, priest or not.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, there's some Gabriel bashing in this story lol.


	6. waking in the night

 

They had managed to talk him out of Daryl’s bedroom after the fiasco with the priest eventually and he had descended the staircase with Judith in tow, shamefaced and nervous, the evening stained by the magnitude of what he was beginning to realize might have been an incredible overreaction. Still they stuck around most of the day and greeted him with humbling understanding, having thrown together a haphazard dinner in his absence.

They had tried again.

Conversation had started as a stilted affair, but it hadn’t been unbearable. They spoke, felt each other out, and eventually the discomfort numbed, the anxiety that had been buzzing beneath his skin tempered, Rick’s eyes becoming less hawkish in cycles, softened by what was turning out to be a blessedly uneventful gathering. 

Touch was, understandably, still an issue.

It wasn’t a conscious thing.

They had gathered in the kitchen after finishing their meal, Glenn and Sasha collecting plates in the sink while Michonne fiddled with the coffee maker, smirking at Carl while he searched high and low for the box of instant hot chocolate he had scrounged up for Judith. Rick had felt compelled to help, leaving Judith with Daryl at the table, coming to hover idly next to the kitchen island. It was a cramped space for so many people to fit themselves into and so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when his hip was jostled as someone squeezed by him.

It was embarrassing to admit, but his mind had gone blank.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Rick had flung an arm out, shoving the person back, a soft gasp of pain reaching his ears a second later. He had looked up into Carol’s startled expression unseeingly for a moment, his hands balling up into fists at his sides, his body trembling. It had taken Daryl’s arms around him and his rumbling voice in his ear before his body became still and pliant again, before Rick could look and really _see_. Guilt had bleed out into his expression apparently because Carol had rushed forward after that, brushing it off as nothing, hiding the moment under a flutter of comforting words.

It became a rule after that, an easy enough one to remember. No touching Rick. Not yet.

And then there was the matter of Judith.

Trying to keep her chained to his side was a laughable impossibility, her renewed interest in their small family unhampered by her shyness, but giving her the space to connect with them on her own terms had been a tenuous thing at first.

Carl and Daryl hadn’t had to try, Judith’s adoration ensured for the both of them almost instantly, but the others had to work around her timidness.

Carol was good enough to get the ball rolling.

Arriving early their second evening in Alexandria with a basket of fresh vegetables and thick cuts of venison, she had moved around the kitchen with a certain familiarity, opening cabinets and drawers in a flurry of movement as she set about preparing that evening’s meal. Daryl had followed her around for a bit, “helping” but getting in the way more than anything else and was eventually shoed away. Looking annoyed the hunter had grunted something under his breath as he had slumped off back into the living room where Judith was coloring beside her father, dropping into one of the wooden chairs next to the little girl who turned to smirk meanly at the hunter from under wisps of messy blonde hair. 

Daryl had reached out and pinched her cheek in retaliation and across the table, Rick had snorted good-naturedly.

It was okay. It was just Daryl. _Brother_. Daryl could touch.

And then her voice had floated across the room. “Hey, Judith?” 

The little girl’s head had shot upward at the sound of her name and he had found his own eyes darting to the older woman, a questioning look clear in his gaze.

“Why don’t you come and help me?” Carol had asked calmly, almost unthinkingly as she turned on the tap on, running cool water over a bundle of carrots. “I could always use another set of capable hands in the kitchen.”

Judith had looked to him with wide eyes, begging silently for permission. This was something new, something she had never done before, and by some small miracle he had nodded, grunting at the little girl to mind the older woman and not to get in the way. He had watched from a distance as the blonde nodded along to every instruction given, her expression serious as though her task was of the utmost importance. She had peeled the carrots handed to her with great care, beaming at the older woman when she had finished, proud and primed for praise.

Ricks eyes hadn’t left his little girl the entire time, but it had been something.

Baby steps, he had told himself.

Taking a different but no less effective route to his daughter’s heart, Sasha and Michonne had chosen to bribe Judith for her affections, plying her with toys and books. They had showered the blonde with more stuffed animals and bound illustrations than she had ever seen before in her life in that one week alone, and if he hadn’t been so pleased with the wide-eyed look of awe on his daughter’s face as she studied the bounty of presents, her delight electric, he would have felt something like failure for not having been able to provide her with such comforts himself.

But there she was, reverently running her fingers along each gifted item. She had never had a birthday present or a Christmas gift and the novelty of the moment wasn’t lost on him when she had wrinkled her nose in confusion the first time Michonne had bent low and presented her with a mysterious package. It hadn’t taken long for the confusion to be replaced by excitement as the week went on, Judith practically buzzing with anticipation for Sasha or Michonne to introduce her to some new object of amusement.

They had been a bit more deferential in their approach at the start, probing him with questions, asking if it was okay if that they demonstrate the Rubik’s cube or play a game of Twister. Later, once his shoulders had loosened to the whole thing, they had stopped asking for permission out right, sharing as little as a look with him before wandering onto the porch with finger paints and paper. Still, they had known better than to close the door behind them and he was grateful, the ability to listen to his daughter’s squeals of delight probably the only thing keeping his heartbeat steady while she played outside of his line of sight.

Glenn hadn’t been a problem because unlike the others, Glenn tended to keep his distance from the little girl. At first he hadn’t noticed because it wasn’t like Glenn ignored her completely, but beyond greetings and the occasional comment or question, the man didn’t go out of his way. In fact, his eyes only seemed to stray to her in quiet moments, a dark sort of forlornness etching into his otherwise placid expression before he would tuck the pained look away from view.

If Judith was bothered by the reserved treatment, she didn’t show it. She still greeted Glenn with the same enthusiasm as she did with the others, still sidled up next to him when she had a question or wanted to show him something, and always wrapped her arms around him affectionately when he left afterwards. 

Things had been going well.

That was until, going into their second week, Daryl had begun bringing them to the community cafeteria for lunch, a less than subtle attempt to expand their comfort zones beyond the boundaries of the house.

As it turned out, the ‘cafeteria’ was a large outdoor space, rounded off by a low fence, and covered in blocks of picnic tables with a large canvas tent covering the whole of the area. A grill was stationed at the center of the enclosure and beside it a long serving table where large containers of prepared dishes were ready for portioning.

Glenn had spearheaded the initiative to introduce them to some of the other community members, familiarizing the two with their neighbors, giving carefully worded introductions, explaining without ever really spelling out their situation.

_This is Olivia, she runs the pantry. Oh, meet Tobin, one of leads on the construction crew and you’ve met Abraham, I think._

And on and on it went.

Judith, ever intrigued by the new world she found herself inhabiting, looked upon every new face as a delightful curiosity, questions bursting from her with such speed that it was as though her mouth could not keep up with the rushing flow of her thoughts. On the opposite end of things, Rick had been less than receptive about the whole thing. If he were to be honest, he didn’t see the point of this exercise and didn’t feel the necessity to tie himself to any more people than he had to.

He had been surprised when a woman called Denise had joined them at their table during their first attempt at it, Daryl introducing her as the town’s doctor. She was a soft-spoken and shy individual, her words tripping over themselves as she tried to carry the conversation, Daryl and himself doing little to help her along. She had had better luck engaging with Judith, offering her the stethoscope that had been hanging around her neck, and teaching her how to use it from across the table. Rick had watched and by the end of their time together had offered the blonde women a mumbled ‘thank you’ before crowding Judith in the direction of the house, having suffered enough company for one day.

Baby steps.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It had been eight days without accident.

Michonne met Rick at the cafeteria that day and took Judith to their usual spot while Rick offered to grab their plates.

It all had happened very quickly after that.

A man had lost his footing while navigating the busy lunchtime crowd and Rick passing him at that same moment had the bad fortune of being the closet person to him as he went down. The man had put a hand to steady himself, accidentally snagging Rick’s shirt as he fell, pulling him off balance in the process. 

He didn’t remember falling but there had been a faint soreness from where his head had knocked against the earth on impact. 

It was the shock of another person’s touch that had registered more than anything else, and suddenly he was dizzy and cold, and before he knew it he had lashed out, his fist striking the nearest person to come to his aid, his face twisted in a snarl. Hands reached out, touching his shoulders, grasping his arms, hauling him up, and on instinct he had wrenched himself backwards, away— just to get away— and right into the solid wall of another’s chest.

His entire body had stiffened, but there wasn’t even a second for him to process this bit of information before a pair of arms had encircled his waist and Daryl’s scent was in his nose, his mouth huffing out a breath against his ear.

“Don’t need to fight.” Daryl murmured smoothly, his voice even and calm even as angry murmurs rumbled and rolled around them, rising and falling like waves cresting against the shore. It unbalanced Rick that Daryl could sound so relaxed when he felt so far from himself and so close to the feral animal that kept him safe and separate.

He felt his legs move as he was slowly dragged backward and pulled down to straddle a bench, Daryl doing the same behind him. 

“Lean back,” Daryl’s voice was soft in his ear, but the hand on his stomach was strong and sure, forcing his torso backward until his back was pressed into Daryl’s chest. The touch was grounding, but it did nothing to stop his shaking, and he could feel it spread to his chest and shoulders.

“Calm down,” the hunter breathed and Rick’s vision swam for a moment. Where was Judith? Had she seen? What if they took her, what if they wouldn’t give her back after this? What if…

“Hey, now.” The hand on his stomach shifted and fingers came up to encircle his wrist with remarkable gentleness. Daryl touched him lightly but firmly like he expected him to startle and a part of Rick wanted to yank away, but a larger part of him was comforted by the gesture.

Centering himself on the feeling of Daryl’s thumb tracing circles along his racing pulse, Rick had calmed down in increments. It wasn't long before Judith’s tiny footfall could be heard approaching their table, Michonne close behind her, her expression pained. Ignoring the many eyes on them, Judith had launched herself into her father’s lap and clung to him, Daryl’s arms finally sliding away as Rick’s attention was diverted to the little body curling into his arms.

Murmurs continued to reverberate around them, the harsh sting of the townsfolk’s judgment like a hot brand on his skin.

They had been testing him and as surely as Rick felt the burn of tears streaming down his face, he knew that he was failing them.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Watch Rick,” Glenn had urged Daryl in passing one day while the both of them were pouring over blueprints for a new greenhouse. “There’s been talk. I don’t know the extent of it, but I’ll get back to you when I know more.” Michonne, standing off to the side at the time, had looked away when Daryl glanced at her, and nodded.

“They’re worried about Judith,” Michonne had said, cornering him as he was getting off watch duty one windy afternoon. “People don’t know what to make of him.”

“Who is ‘people’?” Daryl growled lowly, frustrated that the other man’s problems was becoming reduced to other’s gossip.

Glenn was there too, looking tired and pinching the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowing as if he were warding off an incoming headache. “It’s coming from people who don’t have a reference for this kind of thing.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Mostly newcomers, some older residents too, but all non-combative backgrounds. It makes sense why they’re having a hard time understanding what’s going on.”

Daryl spat onto the ground, a thought itching at the back of his mind. “Gabriel involved in this?”

Glenn shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“We’re going to take care of him, Daryl,” Michonne jumped in, and Glenn looked away this time. “He’s not going to go through this alone and we’re not going to let this become a problem for him, okay? But we don’t want people buying into this narrative that he’s someone to watch out for. This shit tends to spread. He’s been through _enough_.”

“Whatever he needs,” Glenn had said, studying the weathered steel panels of the wall. “We need to try harder to acclimate him. He belongs here. We just need to convince him and the others that that’s true.”

The _how_ was left unsaid.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was an unusually sunny morning despite the chill. 

Carl had cooked scrambled eggs and hash browns for breakfast before he had rushed off to the training grounds. Michonne, sporting her thick, midnight blue Constable’s jacket, had already left hours before, leaving Daryl alone with Rick in the kitchen, Judith close by in the living room with a large basket of toys at her mercy.

Daryl watched Rick closely as he nursed his coffee, studied him with Glenn and Michonne’s words circling in his head, until Rick glanced up and caught him staring. Daryl dropped his eyes to his hands, embarrassed.

“Spend the day with me.” He said abruptly, aiming for casual but cursing himself a moment later when he heard how flat the invitation sounded out loud.

“Doing what?” Rick asked absentmindedly.

Daryl shrugged. “Thought a little hunting would be nice.”

He watched Rick’s eyes go wide like the idea was ludicrous and choke on his coffee. “I don’t know— I mean, taking Judith outside the walls… Is that necessary?”

The hunter shook his head and bit his lip nervously. “Leave the lil’ one with Carol, man. You know she’s good for it. Bet she’d be over the moon to watch her, you know?”

Rick didn’t appear sold on the idea, a pained frown crossing his features like the idea of separating from his daughter was turning his insides to shreds, but eventually something in his expression wavered.

“Not too long,” he relented, his voice hushed in order to go unnoticed by the little girl just a room over. “I don’t want her to think I’m gone.”

Daryl didn’t understand, but nodded like he did. “We don’t even have to go far for what I was thinking.”

Rick was chewing on his lip, looking vaguely at the floor like he was deep in thought. “Okay.”

Nursing the rapidly cooling liquid like it needed to be made to last, Rick finished off his coffee slowly and Daryl, feeling indulgent, didn’t call him out on it right away, instead busying himself with cleaning up the mess left from breakfast, wiping down surfaces and sticking the dirtied plates into a bath of hot, soapy water. When he was done, Rick was still doggedly holding his mug between the palms of his hands, eyes boring down into the pool of brown dregs that remained as though willing them to stall for him for just a little while longer.

“We leave soon and we’ll be back before dinner.” Daryl offered, figuring the only way they were leaving the house was going to be to prod at Rick’s anxieties.

Rick’s eyes flew up from his mug and he grimaced before nodding slowly.

Exiting the kitchen, Daryl rounded the back of the couch to peer at the chaos of dolls and action figures spread on the floor.

“Hey girly.” Daryl called out, gaining her attention. “Your Daddy and me gonna hang and shit today. Think you’re up to kickin’ it with your auntie Carol?”

Behind him, Rick abandoned his cup on the counter, flexing his fingers before stepping into the living room as well. 

Judith set her toys down and looked up at the hunter and her father questioningly. “What are you and Daddy doin’?”

Frowning, Rick opened his mouth, but Daryl quickly cut him off.

“Gonna go to Aaron’s garage for a few hours. I got a motorbike that needs tinkering with.”

“I can’t come?” she asked.

“The garage ain’t no place for children, wouldn’t want you getting’ hurt.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged one shoulder. “Anyway, you’d be bored. Ain’t gonna keep you occupied when you start whining about it neither.”

“M’no whiner.” Judith humphed loudly, sticking her bottom lip out. “I don’ wanna go with you anyway. Miss Carol said she’d teach me to make cookies!”

“See? That’s way cooler.” He said, making his voice light and just a bit higher than it normally was. “Go get anything you wanna take over to hers and then we’ll head on over, all right?”

His eyes cut to Rick, who nodded along, but was regarding his daughter with a look of apprehension.

“M’gonna bring dolly and the zoo animals and the slinky…” Judith lilted, listing off toys as she crammed more and more items into the cradle of her arms, a little plastic sheep and elephant spilling onto the floor as she continued grabbing more than she could carry.

At least she seemed enthusiastic, Daryl thought as he observed the little girl excitedly ponder what else she would bring with her on her play date. 

Because Rick’s dread couldn’t have looked any sharper if he tried. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Their walk was wordless at first.

The road leading away from Alexandria was bracketed by green as far as Daryl could see and the smell of pine needles and wood smoke filled his nostrils. He swallowed great lungfuls of the crisp air as they headed into the cover of the woods, Daryl chancing a glance at the man beside him as they moved further and further into the brush. 

Rick’s face was flushed from the wind and chill, a sort of unfamiliar hearty glow around him. The dark brown rancher’s jacket he wore was a touch too big for his slight frame, the sleeves going down to his fingertips and the hem bunching around his stomach, but it was Sherpa lined and thicker than anything else they had on offer and he seemed warm. He seemed calmer too, seemed almost happy, if not a little shaken.

“She’s alright, you know.” Daryl reminded him, breaking the hush as gently as he could.

Exhaling through his nose, Rick offered Daryl a wry smile. “Yeah, well… It’s not something I can just switch off.”

They continued on and Daryl let Rick have the silence while he scanned the forest around them. They moved deeper into the woods, the only sound between them the crunching of leaves and twigs as they walked. Eventually they reached a small clearing, at which point Daryl let the crossbow slide from where he had carried it, slung against his back, into his hand, hefting the weapon up, and training it ahead.

“How do you think things are going?” Daryl asked, the question casual but loaded with something less than.

“Bad.” Rick watched a rabbit dart across the path up ahead, practically a blur as it sped back towards the brush. Daryl’s crossbow hitched up and a shot let loose, the hare falling to its side. “Judith can tell something’s off.”

Daryl crouched down in front of the rabbit and removed the bloodied bolt, sloppily rubbing the wet end on the cuff of his pants. “What can we do?”

“There isn’t anything you can do.” Rick responded as he took the carcass from the other man, placing it in the satchel they had brought with them. “What kept me alive out here, it’s gonna get me in trouble in there sooner or later.”

“It gets getting used to, that’s all,” Daryl said as he wound the crossbow string up to ready it for another shot. “You’ll get there.”

Daryl gestured for Rick to sit low suddenly and Rick moved gracefully around the foliage, his footfall silent as he hid himself behind the stump of a dead pine.

After winding his crossbow back up, the hunter knocked another bolt, and took aim again, training the bolt at a sudden rustling coming from a shrub up ahead of them.

“Fat one.” Daryl said happily as he revealed a larger rabbit from behind the leaves, holding out the dead animal for Rick to take without looking up.

It was strange to admit that Rick had missed this. How easy it was to fall into step and synchronize with someone else, someone who was fluent in the language of his moods and could speak to him in a glance, or in a silence.

“I feel like I’m losing.” Rick admitted in an odd moment of clarity. “Like I’m being split right down the middle. One minute things are good, all this makes sense…” Blood from the rabbit had stained his hands and for a moment the sight was memorizing, the deep red seeping into his skin. Rick swallowed. “But then it just takes a moment and I can’t remember why I’m here.”

Daryl’s hand on his shoulder startled him with its suddenness, but he didn’t jerk away. Sinking his teeth into the flesh of his lip, Rick looked up and forced himself to listen. 

“We all see that you’re trying, man.” Daryl said sincerely, always so painfully sincere about these kind of things.

Rick released his bottom lip, the taste of copper flooding his senses when his tongue darted to lap at the split skin. “It’s not enough. She doesn’t understand why I can’t just be happy like she is. She wants to share her excitement and gets upset when I can’t fake it back.”

“That’s just normal kid stuff though,” Daryl reasoned, scared of where the conversation was heading.

Rick went on like he hadn’t heard him, his voice dull, matter-of-fact. “Everything I did was for her, living like we were, I had to be this _thing_ — I had to be okay with that. But she doesn’t need that anymore… I don’t know how to go back to that man at the prison. That’s the man she needs now— that’s the man you thought you let in, but I don’t think he exists anymore.”

“You _are_ that man.”

“You don’t know that.” And as the words crossed his lips, Rick really thought about it and the truth was terrifying. “I probably killed good people out there, Daryl. People who didn’t deserve it— who were just _there_ and that was enough, that was all the reason I needed. That’s not what good people _do_.”

“If you were smart, you’d leave me out here.” He whispered, looking past the hunter and out into the brush. “You’d leave me far enough away that I couldn’t find my way back.”

“Shut up.” Daryl growled lowly and Rick was surprised when the hunter’s hands came up to fist into the material of his jacket, keeping the ex-sheriff close, shaking him just a little. 

“You’re wrong.” His words came out in a dark rumble and Rick’s mind must have been playing tricks on him again because he could have sworn he felt the earth quake beneath his feet as the other's voice washed over him. “Y’know what ‘em real monsters look like and that ain’t you. Pretty fuckin’ far from it actually. You done bad things? Join the fuckin’ club, Rick.”

There was something about Daryl just then, something about his quiet anger that drew Rick in, something about the wild shock of hair that hung low, down passed his cheek and the strong set of his jaw, the dark intensity in his eyes. 

“I know you.” The other man rasped, his hands still on Rick, his eyes still sharp and imploring. “You belong with that little girl. You belong in that town. You belong with _us_.”

Rick’s chest felt tight as they stared at each other for a moment, a vague memory tugging at the corner of his brain. He remembered the stale scent of the C-Block cells, visions of Lori taunting him, and arms— strong and warm around him as he rocked himself through another sleepless night.

When he realized what he was doing, Rick shook his head to clear it, his mind having wandered further than he was comfortable letting it.

He turned his gaze away unable to meet those searching eyes any longer, the hands on his chest holding him immobile, preventing him from escaping completely. “You say that, but hold a mirror up to me and I might have a hard time saying the same.”

In front of him, Daryl huffed in exasperation and released him, backing up but only slightly. “You’ll just have to take my word for it until you can believe it yourself then, I guess.”

Rick looked down at the muddied earth. Don’t hold you breath, he thought and for a moment he wished that he could sink down into the muck, just disappear, and be anywhere, literally anywhere else. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time they returned.

Inside the gates of Alexandria again, Rick’s steps had quickened and before he was even cognizant of it he was running, the soles of his boots slapping against the pavement as he tore down the streets, overcome by the overwhelming urge see his daughter after so many hours apart.

Daryl’s voice rang out behind him, calling his name, but Rick kept running, the bag around his shoulder bouncing against his back until he did away with it entirely on the manicured lawn out front, bounding up the steps to Carol’s house two at a time.

He burst inside the front door without knocking, the hinges groaning as he forced his way inside.

“Judith!” he called out, his chest heaving as he surveyed the house.

He heard a light, clear voice float above the thunderous beating of his heart and breathed out a sigh of relief when the blonde came into the hallway.

Giving her a kiss on the cheek before folding her in his arms, Rick felt the tension drain from him, even as Judith began to squirm in his grasp.

“Too tight, Daddy.” Judith whined after a minute, sticking her fingers into his side. 

He pulled back far enough to catch sight of her face. Her palm came up to rest against the rough scruff of his cheek, and she made a show of leaning in and taking a loud sniff.

She squealed loudly as she reared her head back. “Ewww. You smell like Daryl.”

He chuckled lightly, wiping his face playfully against her own. “I’ll wash up once we get home.”

“No! I wanna keep playing with Carol.” Judith complained, frowning.

“Nah, sweetheart.” Rick hushed, brushing her wild blonde hair out of her face. “We’ve bothered Carol enough for one day.”

“I don’t bother Carol though! She likes having me around.” Judith argued.

There was something odd about the way she said it that made Rick’s eyebrow twitch, but before he could delve into it the woman in question appeared, her lips pursed as though she were holding something back.

“Listen to your father, honey. Those cookies we made are going home with him and someone’s got to make sure he doesn’t eat them all by himself.”

“I am awfully hungry.” Rick teased, trying to push a bit of humor into his voice. “Me and Daryl worked up ourselves an appetite.”

The older woman bit her lip conspiratorially and began to back out of the hallway to what Rick assumed was her kitchen. “Guess I’ll just pack up those cookies for you, Rick. Judith, I hope you like cabbage because that’s all I have left in my fridge for dinner…”

“Carol, no!” She called and rushed across the room, towing Rick along by the arm. “I’m going to go home now. Daddy can’t eat all of my cookies cus he’ll get sick! I gotta watch him.”

“Oh?” She said, setting her hands on her hips. “Well, I guess that’s settled then. More cabbage for me.”

Rick chuckled softly and released Judith from the circle of his arms. “G’wan, get your things, darlin’.”

“How was it?” He asked once she had disappeared into the other room.

Carol’s face transformed as she smiled brightly at him, her eyes crinkling. “She’s an angel. Smart as a whip and stubborn like her father.”

Her smile faltered for a second but returned with a nervous wobble. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about actually.”

Rick grunted an affirmative and his brow furrowed.

Carol’s lips thinned as she gathered her thoughts and shifted forward, keeping her voice low. “We’ve got a few children Judith’s age here and some of the parents have been talking about organizing classes for those of them who would be going into preschool around this time.”

Her eyes watched him closely, gauging his reaction as she continued.

“If it helps…” She said, tilting her head to the side. “I volunteered to teach. It would only be for a couple of hours in the morning five days out of the week and I’d host the whole thing here, so it's close by and everything.” 

He knew his silence was actively advertising his discomfort with what she was putting forward, but his mouth was suddenly too dry to speak, his voice stuck behind the lump forming in his throat.

“Kids need structure, Rick. A sense of normalcy. Judith seems to be a wonderfully social little girl, but she doesn’t have a lot of experience being around her peers. It could be good for her.”

“I hear yea.” He croaked out when he managed to find his voice again. “I’ll think about, all right?”

“Of course.” Her lips twitched but her smiled didn’t waver this time. “How was it outside the walls?”

“The fresh air was nice.” He said, just to say something. “Missed her though.”

“She’s an easy one to miss.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Just then he heard peals of delight as the girl ran back down the hallway, the blue gym bag of toys slung over her back. She crashed into her father’s legs and beamed up at him, her cheeks pink and her blue eyes twinkling.

“Ready!” She lilted, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth.

“Alright then.” He took the gym bag from her and nodded his head toward the front door. “I think Daryl is waitin’ for us outside, let’s go get him.”

They moved back down the hallway and reaching out to grasp the doorknob, Rick turned at the last minute dipped his head. “Thanks for this.”

“Anytime.” She said. “Think about what we talked about Rick.”

Nodding his head, Rick pulled Judith through the doorway and was relieved to see Daryl seated on the steps, the satchel of game at his feet. His eyes flickered up at them and he jerked his chin upward, a question.

Rick shock his head and walked away.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Rick was exhausted but sleep evaded him that night.

He left Judith carefully cocooned in a nest of blankets on the bed and carefully snuck passed Daryl’s cot into the hallway. Keeping his steps light, Rick walked through the house, his feet taking him past the front door and out onto the porch. His shoulders shook with the force of the sigh that tore loose from him, a heavy, stuttering exhalation. In a distant corner of his mind, Rick flirted with the idea of grabbing Judith from her sleep and making a run for it. But then there was Carl, there was Daryl, Michonne… He was being selfish. Selfish and stupid. Stupid and crazy.

His heart descended from his chest into his stomach and Rick scolded himself. _He was doing it again._

Moving along the porch, Rick ducked his head passed the barrier and watched the sky. 

Its blackness was alight with small burning points that seemed to throb delicately in the distance. He marveled at them for a while, losing track of time the longer he looked. If he could just keep his eyes up, distract himself long enough, he would get through whatever this feeling was that was robbing him of his sleep.

The sound of creaking wood pulled Rick from his musings and as quickly as he had unpacked the dark thoughts in hopes of detangling them into something coherent, he boxed them back up and set them aside.

It was difficult to make out, the figure clad in dark colors, but a man was slowly creeping up the steps of the house.

Images of the townspeople that Rick had met in passing the last few weeks flew through his mind, but this man wasn’t anyone he’d seen before. He was strange, possibly dangerous, and slowly making his way toward the door that would put him under the same roof as his sleeping daughter.

He went cold and then he attacked.

The intruder blocked the first blow; eyes wide in shock as he turned abruptly at the sound of approaching steps, but Rick didn’t leave him any room to recuperate. Bringing his other hand up, Rick threw his fist only to have it go wide, the other man ducking quickly and moving into and under his arm until he was behind Rick and out of sight.

Undeterred, Rick spun around with an elbow aimed at the man’s ribs and felt a pleased satisfaction when blow connected, forcing a small breath of pain from the other man as he stumbled backward. 

Covering the distance between them, Rick charged at the intruder and with the sheer force of his momentum on his side, the near ex-sheriff was able to crush the longhaired man into the side of the house, the crack of his skull on impact startling in the relative quiet.

The man bucked valiantly against him, trying to free himself, but Rick wasn’t having it. With deft fingers Rick lifted the knife sheathed in the other man’s belt and brought it up to the struggling man’s throat, the tip of the blade tracing along the only vulnerable skin on display. The intruder froze, chest heaving beneath the many layers he wore as he fought to remain still beneath the sharpened steal.

“Think you can take what’s mine? That it?” Rick growled, applying more pressure to the blade. Their faces were close enough that their air mingled, close enough that Rick could see the pulse jump in the other man’s neck as he fought for his next breath.

The man tried to shake his head before thinking better of it. “Sorry, I don’t—”

“Uh-uh, none of that.” Rick hushed him, ice in his veins as tightened his grip on the knife. “No words.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Daryl wasn’t sure what had happened.

It seemed as though in the hours following their excursion Rick had somehow become more withdrawn and even quieter than he had been before. He still ate with them at the table that evening and mumbled a bit in conversation to appease his son and daughter, but there was a sadness to him that hadn’t been there before.

They had gone to sleep that night with hardly a word spoken between them, Rick mechanically going through the motions of dressing Judith in the pajamas Sasha had found for here just days before, leading her to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

Flicking off the lights for the night, Daryl had murmured a hushed goodnight, which Judith returned sleepily and which Rick quietly ignored.

It could have only been a few hours later when Daryl was pushed to consciousness by the sound of a distant rustling. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Rick’s spot on the bed empty and instantly Daryl was wide awake. Stumbling from his cot, Daryl checked that Judith was still fast asleep before he quietly slid out the bedroom door. 

Straining his ear, Daryl heard a muffled thump, like something had fallen against the side of the house and took off. Taking the stairs two at a time, Daryl darted across the kitchen and pushed through the door that led out to the porch. There, pushed roughly up against the side of the house, was a certain longhaired individual, a blade resting at the hollow of his throat.

“Rick.” Daryl hissed with quiet authority, careful to keep his voice low but loading the single word with enough venom to still a charging beast. “Stop!” 

Rick’s hold on the knife slackened, his eyes flickering to Daryl warily.

“Let ‘em go.” Daryl pressed. “That idiot is one of ours.”

Releasing the stranger, Rick growled lowly and moved away, relieved when Daryl moved in the created space between them to shove angrily at the other man.

“The fuck did I tell you about sneakin’ into places you ain’t invited?” The hunter grunted, his eyes burning hot with anger.

And the man, incredibly, smiled brightly in the dark. His teeth were a gleaming white and his mouth split wide in genuine amusement. “That it’s just one of my many beloved quirks?” 

He rocked forward onto his tippy toes to glance over the hunter’s shoulder, eyes back on Rick. “And may I ask who is this charming house guest that I have startled inadvertently?”

Daryl shoved the man back again, although the gestured was softened this time, coming across as more annoyed than angry. “This’s Rick.”

“ _You’re_ Rick?” Eyes tracked over him in great interest suddenly, soaking in every detail of his appearance. “He’s alive and you didn’t think to let me know?”

And then, strangely, Daryl’s shoulders slumped and his mouth slopped down into a frown as though the other man's teasing chastising was affecting, glancing at Rick and then back at the stranger.

“Was gonna. We had that run planned for next week, thought I’d tell you in person.”

The stranger laughed and made eye contact with Rick again, mirthful as though the whole thing was some hilarious misunderstanding and this was just one big joke that kept on giving.

“Would you believe this is only the second time a Grimes has pulled a weapon on me after breaking into this house?” He asked Rick whose expression had yet to change from the pointed grimace he had been sporting for most of the encounter. “You would have thought that I’d have learned my lesson by now.”

“Knock it off, asshole.” Daryl hissed and this time his fist crammed its way into the meat of the other man’s shoulder, the longhaired man huffing out a wince of pain before laughing it off again.

“I’m Paul Rovia.” The man said, offering his hand to Rick, who didn’t react beyond a slight twitch of his lips. “Or you can call me Jesus. Both work.”

Daryl growled angrily and slapped away the proffered hand. “Keep your fucking voice down before you wake Judith and the rest of the fucking house.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” The man said, finally looking somewhat mollified. “Can I stay here for the night? Kind of late to be knocking on Carol’s door and all.”

“But it wasn’t late enough to come barging in here, was it?” Daryl snarked, grinding his teeth, growing exhausted by the whole ordeal. “Fine. Guest room by the bathroom is open. Try not to scare the living shit out of anyone on your way there.”

Jesus quirked an eyebrow at the offer but nodded in acceptance.

The stranger moved as though heading in the direction of the front door but then stopped and addressed Rick one last time. “Hey, let’s not let this taint whatever future correspondence we have, okay? I can be very loveable when I’m not actively disturbing the peace. Daryl can vouch for that.”

“Get the fuck outta here.” Daryl barked, exasperation coloring his voice again.

The man— Jesus— disappeared into the house with one last wave of his hand and Rick had to remind himself that it was okay, that he needed to relax.

“He’s a bit much.” Daryl said awkwardly, filling the silence.

Rick tilted his head as he considered the front door. “He’s not from around here.”

Daryl shook his head. “There’s another community a little ways from here, called the Hilltop. Jesus is a scout for them. Helps negotiate trade between our groups.”

Roughly scrubbing at his eyes, Rick shook his head, almost as if he was berating himself, and released a long sigh.

“Sorry.” The one word was loaded with so much that Daryl felt himself snap to attention, quick to comfort the ex-sheriff.

“Hey, that one ain’t on you.” He reassured him, but Rick’s expression was still one of misery and self-loathing.

“I wanted to kill him.”

“But you didn’t. You stopped.” Daryl’s eyes flashed. “That matters, Rick.”

It was late and Rick didn’t want to rehash this argument for a second time.

“Judith?” He asked, evading the issue.

“Out like a light.” Daryl shook his head again. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Rick inhaled long and shaky. “No.”

“Want some company?”

Rick didn’t want to be alone, but after what had just happened he wasn’t sure if he deserved the company.

Sensing his indecision, Daryl lifted a crumpled pack from his vest and plucked one of the last cigarettes from the packaging. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead.”

Daryl lit a match and cupped the small flame, bringing the tip of his cigarette forward to catch it. 

Rick watched as the hunter lowered himself to the porch floor, back against one of the white columns that supported the overhang, his knees drawn up, one leg handing off the edge of the steps. The hunter’s eyes slid shut after taking another drag on the cigarette, blowing all his tension in shoulders out in a cloud of smoke.

His pulse was still a wild thing fluttering beneath his skin and before he could overthink it, Rick dropped down beside the hunter onto the porch too, pressing his own back into the adjacent side of the column, their arms brushing lightly. If Daryl was bothered by the contact there was no outward reflection of his feelings on the matter and he blew out another cloud of smoke.

Rick licked his lips and contemplated what he wanted as they sat in silence. As his mind drifted, he found exhaustion hitting him suddenly. His head felt heavy and his eyes stung from the cool night air. Tipping his head to the side, he found himself resting against the hunter, who remained unspeaking and unaffected by the movement, the soft sounds of his exhalations the only noise that remained between them.

It could have only been a few minutes later when Rick felt a soft tap of fingers against his arm and he jolted awake, Daryl’s face near his own.

“Should get back to bed.” The hunter advised, his voice unusually soft.

He flicked the spent cigarette into the street and helped Rick get back to his feet.

They returned to the upstairs bedroom, arms and shoulders touching as they refused to wander too far from the other. Back inside Daryl’s room, Rick let out a quiet noise of distress when Daryl made to sit on his cot.

“You don’t have to sleep down there, you know?” Rick said, dropping his gaze, unable to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Ain’t got no where else.” The hunter mumbled, trying to keep his voice low so as not to wake Judith.

“You could sleep up here, I mean.” Rick explained, hating how his voice shook. “There’s enough room.”

Daryl’s expression was unreadable, but there was a long pause before he answered. “You sure?”

He had spent whatever words he had for the night, his tongue stubbornly refusing to budge, so Rick nodded in answer. He held out hope that the darkness of the room could at least hide the flush in his cheeks, his embarrassment leaving him overheated in the wake of his request.

Rick felt the weight fall from his shoulders as Daryl crawled onto the open space of the bed, careful not to disturb the mattress too much as he took the side to Judith’s right. Cracking an eye open, his daughter looked up at Daryl for a moment, but just as quickly the young girl’s eyes slid shut and she curled further into the sheets uncaring of his presence, returning to sleep as though she hadn’t seen him at all. 

They settled under the sheets, Judith snuggled between them, and this time when Rick closed his eyes, he slept.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass. Yikes.


	7. hide my eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus understands what's going on between Rick and Daryl a little better.

 

Morning snuck up on him eventually and Rick woke in increments, his mind comfortably suspended in a hazy place. And then, as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through the window, he woke all at once.

The previous night came back to him.

Smoothing a hand softly down Judith’s back, Rick stretched carefully in the confined space, inadvertently ruffling Daryl’s dark hair in the process, his hair fanned out onto the sheets where he lay just beyond his little girl’s shoulder. Neither of them stirred at the gentle handling and Rick couldn’t help but stare at the picture they made, the hunter curled around his daughter’s back, face slack in sleep. Peaceful almost.

_Mine._

Rick’s heart thrummed with a fond possession, comforted and satiated as his eyes greedily took in the details of Daryl’s face, flickering over to study the rise and fall of Judith’s chest in turn. He didn’t know what this feeling was, coursing through him, a certain rightness that he hadn’t felt in a while but one that soothed him to his core. Settled him.

After a while, he sat up, trying not to jar them awake and picked the sleep out of the corner of his eyes before rolling out of bed, pausing only a moment to look back one final time.

Rick shut the door quietly behind him and crept down the stairs.

He had hoped to go unnoticed and maybe have a quiet moment to himself before the others woke up. That hope was quickly dashed when Rick entered the kitchen, startling violently when he noticed that he was not alone.

Jesus straightened from where he had been slouched against the pantry wall, blinking at Rick in a moment of grogginess and then, like a switch flipping, he was smiling brightly. 

His lips parted in greeting, revealing a flash of teeth. “Morning, Rick.”

Gone was the leather trench coat, the quilted navy vest, and the knitted cap, and left in their place was a simple, ribbed thermal atop a pair of tactical pants. Taking in the other man’s appearance, Rick’s eyes lingered on the light chestnut hair that hung just beneath his shoulders and the thick tuft of beard that covered his chin and it finally clicked how apt of a nickname ‘Jesus’ was.

“Morning.” He managed to push out after an extended silence. “What’re you doing?”

“I was just waiting for the coffee.” Jesus explained, gesturing to the kettle sitting on the stovetop. Nearby on the counter was an unusual hourglass-shaped flask that Rick hadn’t seen in the house before now, with a distinct funnel-like neck and a wooden collar wrapped around its center. 

The man continued to speak, the pace of his words a touch too quick, almost shy. “I’m pretty useless without caffeine first thing. Old world problems, right?”

Sidestepping him to move further into the kitchen, Rick began to pick disinterestedly at the bowl of fruit Michonne had put together on the counter earlier in the week, keeping his eyes on the other man. 

“Coffee maker is over there,” he said pointedly.

“Oh, no way. I hate that thing,” Jesus grumbled, his nose wrinkling as he regarded the appliance from across the room. “This life is way too short for the shit coffee that thing spits out.” 

The man gestured to the odd glass container and arched an eyebrow. “You ever use a Chemex before, Rick?”

He shook his head, his eyes moving away from the nectarine he had plucked from the bowl and back to the flask.

“They’re amazing. Honestly, there’s no better way to brew.” Rick watched as the other man turned to dig through the cabinets, pulling out a small cylinder canister and a thin box. He seemed comfortable with the layout of the small space and Rick briefly wondered how often this man had stayed here, sleeping and eating in the same house as his family.

“It probably wouldn’t surprise you,” Jesus continued absentmindedly, pulling a paper filter from the box and placing it into the neck of the Chemex. “Considering the way I look, but I used to earn some money on the side working as a barista at one of those smarmy third-wave coffee joints you used to be able to find on every other corner in D.C before the outbreak.” 

Twisting open the lid to the canister, Jesus reached into the container and using the small scooper inside, spooned out several portions of what appeared to be coffee grounds on top of the filter. 

“It was all very pretentious, you know? Lots of stuffy, put-upon fronting by psuedo-intellectual types who liked to overcomplicate what is essentially a very easy drink to make, and I do realize that this is kind of a pot calling the kettle black situation, but whatever…” The younger man trailed off as he grasped the handle of the now steaming kettle and poured a hot stream of water onto the dry coffee bed, easing the kettle back after a moment as little gaseous bubbles began to form on the surface of the moistened grounds. 

Jesus smiled a little and inhaled deeply before leaning toward Rick as though he were sharing a secret, his eyelids shuttered slightly, his too big eyes regarding Rick lazily. 

“It’s one of my last true indulgences,” Jesus admitted. “And I don’t see the point in denying myself when it brings me so much pleasure.”

He was angling his chin up now, his eyes roaming freely over Rick’s face in a way that made Rick feel naked. Unsure as to why he felt suddenly subdued by the other’s gaze, Rick instinctively lowered his head, looking at the younger man from beneath his lashes.

“Daryl rips into me for it… understandably,” Jesus continued, seemingly unaware that internally Rick was fumbling. “But when the day comes that we run out of the real stuff, I am never going to touch another cup again. How’s that for real talk? In general, I’m not picky over most things, but that instant grainy shit that Daryl keeps bringing back on supply runs is dead rank. I’d rather keep the memory of good coffee pure in my head, thank you.”

The younger man returned his attention to the coffee, pouring the rest of the water over the grounds, and watching it quietly as it percolated down through the coffee and paper filter into the flask.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Jesus asked after a moment, glancing up at Rick again who had not moved nor spoken since the younger man had stopped talking.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rick offered plainly. He was still holding the nectarine in his hand, rolling the fruit in his palm for want of a distraction.

Jesus hummed knowingly. “That’s okay. I’ve been told that I’m plenty equipped to carry most conversations by myself.”

They fell into a comfortable hush while Jesus began to move about the kitchen, placing mugs onto the countertop and then squeezing a knitted cozy over the glass.

“Keeps it warm longer,” Jesus explained, noticing the hitch of Rick’s eyebrow.

Proceeding to pinch the ends of the paper filter together, Jesus lifted the grounds from the neck of the Chemex and brought the bundle over to a small compost bin by the door. Coming back to the flask, the longhaired man tipped the glass container over and filled two mugs with steaming liquid, picking one up and offering it to Rick eagerly.

“Please try it,” he said, his eyes alight with something unquestionably earnest. “Tell me I’m right.”

The man had oddly mesmerizing oceanic eyes, and Rick could feel them watching him closely as he took a cautious sip.

“It’s good.” He mumbled, not quite smiling but feeling some of the tension draining from his expression. He felt a little more relaxed than he had when he had first come down. Whatever it was that was happening almost felt natural.

A giddy sort of happiness flittered across the other man’s face as Rick took another sip and Jesus quickly gulped down some of the coffee from his own mug, hopping up to sit on the countertop. 

“It’s as good as it gets.” He nursed the warm ceramic between his hands and hummed. Rick noticed Jesus’s mouth twitch, as though he would have liked to quirk his lips into a smile, but instead forced his expression into something serious and contemplative.

Rick continued to cautiously sip at his own coffee, heat spreading through his chest as he was warmed from the inside out. He took a bite out the nectarine when the caffeine hit him in a sharp, heady rush, the lush sweetness of the fruit overwhelming the smooth bitter taste of the coffee.

“I wanted to apologize about last night, by the way.” Jesus said after another few minutes of comfortable silence had passed between them. He seemed to have sobered slightly. “After being out there for as long as you were you deserve a place where you can feel safe. I didn’t mean to disturb that. Promise it won’t happen again.”

The man’s eyes were soft and had a puppyish quality, the bouncing energy that had characterized his earlier behavior tampered by something else.

Rick considered the apology.

It was, on the whole, unnecessary. It was a nicety. Rick didn’t have any use for it, but it was nice and despite himself, Rick found himself nodding, and then dropping his gaze to choke down another chunk of nectarine, chewing the flesh mechanically.

It was at that time that Rick heard the thump of doors above him, the tread of someone’s boots on bare floors, and a low growl of a voice that must have been Daryl. More footsteps could be heard descending the staircase and a second later the hunter emerged on the landing, looking ruffled and a little bit out of breath.

“You bothering him?” Daryl shot out at the scout, looking at Rick and Jesus’s positions in the kitchen nervously.

A smirk snuck its way onto the other’s face and Jesus shook his head. “Nah, we were just chatting, babe. Though jealous is an attractive look on you, to be honest.”

Daryl didn’t rise to the bait and stalked closer, rounding Jesus’s seat on the kitchen island, giving the shorter man a look. “Huh. Seemed more like you were just chatting _at_ him. One of your bad habits.”

Jesus snickered and shook his head again in disbelief. “I made him coffee. I made _you_ coffee too. You should really be nicer to me.”

Daryl pointedly ignored the other man and came up to Rick, eyeing the mug in his hand.

“Okay?” he asked.

Rick nodded, somewhat relieved by his company. “Judith?”

“Still sleeping.” Daryl said. His eyes traveled across Rick’s face, clearly searching for a sense of the ex-sheriff’s thoughts.

Rick gave him very little. “Good.”

He knew that Daryl was confused about what had happened the night before, but Rick didn’t want to talk about it and if Daryl wasn’t going to ask him directly, Rick wasn’t going to help him along.

Daryl took the hint and swung his gaze back to the scout, who had begun swinging his legs from his perch on the counter.

“And you.” Daryl said, eyeing Jesus. “We cover why you’re here again?”

“Not to help my ever wilting self-esteem, that’s for sure,” Jesus murmured, though a small smile was still present on his face. His foot came up to nudge once at the hunter’s hip. “Thought since we had that run to the nursery scheduled for Friday that I might as well just save you the trip to the Hilltop altogether. Make it a straight shot for the U-Haul.”

Daryl clicked his tongue and directed an odd look at Jesus, one that Rick couldn’t quite decipher, but seemed strangely secretive. “Makes sense.” 

“Hey guys,” Carl greeted, choosing that moment to appear at the bottom of the staircase, walking into the kitchen, and grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter next to his father, biting into it with a loud crunch. “Hey Jesus, when did you get in?”

“Late last night.” Jesus said, grinning from around his mug. “Funny story actually. Your dad tried to separate my head from my shoulders with a Bowie knife. I’m completely unsurprised you managed to sleep through it.”

“Chances are you deserved it.” The Grimes boy shot back, talking around the mouthful of fruit. “Daryl’s told you to knock off the ninja shit like a thousand times.”

“Boy’s right.” Daryl rumbled. “Someone’s gotta teach you manners.”

“Oh please,” Jesus rolled his eyes. He directed a look of incredulity at the hunter. “I wasn’t scaling the walls or anything so dramatic. I _tried_ to use the front door.”

Daryl snorted. “Yeah, in the dead of night.”

“About that…” Jesus began, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “There were some things I wanted to discuss with you if you’ve got time?”

Daryl’s head tilted to the side. “I’ve got time now.”

It was like they were speaking in a different language for how little Rick was picking up from their words and the ex-sheriff’s brow knitted together as he looked from one man to the other, both pointedly fixated on each other suddenly, paying the room little mind as they continued trading coded sentences between them.

“You sure?” Jesus asked, his teeth dragging against the reddened skin of his lip as it popped free. “Later is good too.”

Daryl shook his head. “Got things later.”

“Okay.” Jesus’s voice came out soft but there was an undertone of excitement there too.

Daryl huffed out a loud breath and jerked his chin up. “Finish your coffee, weirdo. Then we can go.”

Jesus grinned and tipped his head back, draining the cup, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed hurriedly.

“Where you off to?” Rick asked, feeling his stomach drop as the other two men clearly meant to leave.

“Aaron’s garage.” Daryl answered quickly; his head tilted downward, his gaze skittering away.

“We uh—” Jesus began, stepping between them, a nervous energy animating his movements. “We’ve got a blacksmith back at the Hilltop—” The man’s eyebrows furrowed. “The uh, place I’m from— Anyway, his name’s Leonard and he’s going to make these custom parts for Daryl’s bike. We need to work on final designs before Leonard can start getting things moving.”

“Good o’l Leonard…” Daryl mumbled awkwardly. He looked up at Rick finally and nodded. 

“I’ll be back for lunch.” He assured before moving toward the front door, Jesus trailing hurriedly behind him.

They left and Rick got the distinct feeling that he had missed something. He turned to his son who was smirking in amusement, shaking his head.

“He thinks he’s sly, but Daryl’s a terrible liar.” He said finally when he noticed his father looking at him.

“What do you mean?” Rick asked.

Carl took another bite from his apple before crossing his arms over his chest, chewing thoughtfully. “Don’t let it on to Daryl, but I know Aaron moved all his tools and bike gear out of his place into one of the storage sheds around the perimeter months back. _That’s_ where Daryl’s bike is.”

Carl laughed, tossing his core into the compost bin from across the way. “I don’t get why he’s being all secretive, but if Jesus is involved, maybe I don’t want to know.”

Rick nodded and hummed, trying not to let his discomfort show too clearly.

Either Carl didn’t pick up on it or he chose to ignore it because the young man turned to his father and smiled excitedly.

“I’m teaching a class on knife maintenance in about an hour.” He said, rocking on his heels like the prospect of lecturing on weapon care was a real treat. “Could come with me if you want?”

Rick nodded, doing his best to crush down the lingering feelings of jealousy and confusion that had flared up following Daryl and Jesus’s exit.

“Sure. Bet you’ve got something new to show your old man.”

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase.

“Look who I found.” Michonne sang as she entered the kitchen, Judith trailing beside her, one hand wrapped around Michonne’s and the other held up, blocking a large yawn that had her jaw stretching wide as she tiredly shuffled into view.

“Hey there, Rick.” Michonne smiled softly at him and lifted her free arm up as she neared. 

Rick regarded the swords-woman curiously and moved forward, closing the distance between them, pulling her into a hug. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh hint of aloe vera that scented her hair, swallowing warily when the hand on his back shifted upward to squeeze his shoulder just slightly, causing his muscles to tense unexpectedly.

But he was calm. Michonne was safe and they had been practicing, trading casual touches more and more, all gentle, all telegraphed, but it was getting easier to ignore the part of him that still bristled when her hand strayed too close to his neck and to accept the touch for what it was. Rick eventually relaxed into Michonne’s embrace, dipping his face into the curve of her shoulder with a drawn out sigh.

They parted and Rick felt his lips curl upward, grinning at Michonne whose face was alight with the same infectious excitement.

Another success.

Beneath them, Judith yawned again.

“Hey baby,” Rick cooed, lifting the sleepy blonde into his arms, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. “You sleep alright?”

Judith fussed tiredly against him, trying to settle. 

“Woke up and everyone was gone.” She whined.

“Not gone, just downstairs.” Rick murmured, swaying her slightly side to side. “Well actually, Daryl stepped out with a friend for a little bit.” Rick was trying not to obsess over that piece of information, so he quickly changed the subject. “But it’s okay, we’re gonna spend the day with Carl at his job today, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Judith mumbled into his shirt, doing her best to sleep on her father one way or another. “What about breakfast?”

“I’ll make some oatmeal,” Michonne offered, breaking off from the pair to riffle through kitchen drawers for a pot. “We can even cut up some of the cherries Enid brought over yesterday.”

“Say thank you,” Rick managed to whisper in her ear just before Judith slumped onto his shoulder, burying her cheek in the crook of her father’s neck.

“Thanks Mich’on,” she mumbled as her eyes slid shut.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jesus slouched back against one leg of Gabriel’s altar, the table moving slightly from his weight. His temple was damp with sweat and a satisfied grin was painted across his face as he took a second to recovered.

“Be honest,” he said, tucking himself away. “If Rick hadn’t had me against a wall, you’d have been stoked that I came to surprise you, right?” 

He finished zipping up his pants and wiped absently at the corner of his mouth. “I was trying to be romantic. A late night dalliance between star crossed lovers, you know? It sounded nice.”

“Shuddup.” Daryl huffed, but some of the bite was lost by the sound of his own heavy breathing. He still managed to kick his leg out from where he was propped up against the opposite wall, his foot jarring Jesus’s own. “Nothing romantic about getting your dick sucked in a damn church.”

“Plans changed. I had to improvise.” Jesus chuckled, moving his foot back to caress up the hunter’s calf playfully. 

“But like, for real…” He murmured, bringing the teasing ministration to a stop. “You okay?”

Daryl grunted something inaudible and shrugged, some of the heat leaving his cheeks as his body calmed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hey,” Jesus chided as he scooted closer, coming to rest next to the hunter against the wall. “Talk to me.”

Daryl lowered his head but his eyes darted up to the other man’s gaze, the corners of his lips twitching downward. “What about?”

Jesus released a long suffering sigh, a combination of exasperation and fondness broadcasting from him loud and clear. “Well, your best friend is back from the dead. How about you start with that?”

Bring his thumb up to bite nervously at his nail, Daryl looked away but leaned his head onto the shorter man’s shoulder, the scout’s long hair tickling his cheek as he settled there. His free hand reached out and he breathed out a sound of relief when his fingers interlaced with those of the man next to him. 

They did this sometimes when the pressure of a face-to-face conversation was too much for Daryl to bear and his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. The younger man waited patiently, humming softly as Daryl gathered his thoughts, his thumb rubbing soothingly against the back of the older man’s hand.

When Daryl eventually spoke, his voice was low, his words a near whisper.

“If I believed in this religious shit I woulda called it a miracle or somethin’ like it.” He paused. “But it wasn’t a miracle ‘cause he was out there this whole damn time with that little girl of his, strugglin’, fightin’ every day to just get by, thinkin’ we musta died too ‘cause otherwise we’d have been in Georgia searchin’. But we weren’t. We’d given up on him and he knows that now.”

“Does he blame you for it?” Jesus asked, careful to keep his voice even.

“Don’t know.” Daryl responded. “He should though.”

“Bullshit.” Jesus murmured, nuzzling his nose against the strands of greasy hair under his chin. 

He stilled after a moment and asked another question. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Trynna get him situated. Distract him. Don’t know what else I can do.”

“Have you thought about—” Jesus took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Have you thought about telling him how you feel?”

Daryl’s head popped off his shoulder and the hunter shifted, regarding Jesus with a look of wide-eyed confusion. “Whaddya talking about?”

“Daryl.” Jesus said, pitching his voice low and gentle. “You don’t need to pretend.”

“I ain’t—I don’t…” Daryl rasped, something like fear coloring his tone. “The fuck you talkin’ about, Paul?”

“He’s sleeping in your room, isn’t he?” Jesus interrupted, not wanting to sound accusatory, but unwilling to let the subject drop. “I didn’t go to sleep right away. I heard— I remember what you told me…”

That got Daryl’s attention.

“It ain’t like that.” Daryl barked, twisting away.

“Daryl, it’s okay.” Jesus moved with him and cupped the hunter’s face between the palms of his hands, leaning their foreheads together, effectively trapping the hunter. “I’m not saying that you did anything.”

“Then what you sayin’, huh?” Daryl asked, his voice shaking. His own hands came up to rest against Jesus’s own, trying to press them impossibly closer to his skin. “You wanna hear me beg? I don’t _want_ no one else, Paul. I want you—”

“Wanting me and wanting Rick doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive, babe.” Their noses bumped together. “But you do, right? You still love him?”

Daryl lowered his eyes, looking defeated. “Course I still love him…”

“Daryl.” Jesus intoned, round eyes imploring the hunter for more.

“Alright…” Daryl whispered, nodding his head. “Yeah.”

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere.” Jesus pressed his lips to Daryl’s quickly, nothing more than a peck, but enough to comfort the other man. “We’ve survived a lot worse things and chances are we’ll survive this too. It’s what we do…” A sound at the front of the church had him trailing off. “Shit. We have to go.”

Daryl’s eyes widened and he staggered to his feet. 

“Move.” He hissed, reaching out to haul Jesus up.

Together they scurried from behind the altar and down the isle, pushing through the side entrance just as the front door jiggled open. Letting the door swing shut behind them, Jesus laughed and bumped his shoulder against Daryl’s as they rounded the building, coming to a stop once they reached the road.

“Did you grab the rag?” Jesus asked, a little short of breath.

A small smile crept onto the hunter’s face. “Nah. Musta forgot.”

The younger man snickered, eyes twinkling. 

“You’re fucked up, babe.” Jesus teased, an answering smile spreading across his face. 

His next words left his lips with very little thought. “I love you.”

The hunter dipped his head and rocked forward. “I know. You know too, right?”

“I do.”

They slotted their lips together then in a quiet moment of affection, Daryl’s hands coming up to frame the line of Jesus’s jaw as they languidly worked their mouths together, trading sweet, searching kisses between them. When they drew apart, Jesus laughed happily and Daryl blushed.

“Should probably get over to the shed.” Daryl grumbled, stepping away just slightly. “Really do want them parts from _Leonard_.”

Upon hearing the Hilltop blacksmith’s name, Jesus rolled his eyes and shoved at the hunter. “Dick.” 

Daryl stumbled back only a little, a hint of smirk playing at his lips. 

Jesus sighed, shaking his head. “I was still waking up.”

“You can’t lie for shit, you mean.”

“Like you can talk.” Their shoulders brushed again as they began to walk. “Guess that’s why we’re so good together.”

They walked a few yards, not speaking, but once they were far enough away from the church, Jesus let out a small worried noise. 

“I still want to talk.” He said, allowing some of his own vulnerability to show, hopeful that Daryl would warm to the idea.

Their arms knocked together again and Jesus relaxed when Daryl’s fingers tangled briefly around his own. “Figured you wouldn’t let it go,” Daryl said. The skin of his hand was warm and rough. “Like a damn dog with a shoe.”

Dipping his head shyly, Jesus grinned feeling the blush rise to his cheeks. “Sexy _and ___perceptive. Just how I like ‘em.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“It’ll be fine.” Jesus hissed as they approached the rows of tables. “You said you needed help socializing him. Well guess what, I’m the most social person you know. No one better to get the job done if you ask me.”

“Wasn’t asking.” Daryl pouted, carrying their plates as they maneuvered through the lunch crowd. “Don’t overwhelm him. The crowded space puts him on edge already and he doesn’t need another bad day.”

Jesus snagged his plate and summoned one of his toothier smiles. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

They found the Grimes family at their usual spot, Michonne having joined them as well. Rick scooted over, making just enough room for Daryl to sit by his side and Jesus, taking his cue, sat across the table from them next to Michonne who greeted him with a sunny smile, the youngest Grimes bouncing carefree on her lap.

“Hello, little missy.” Jesus said offering the little girl a delicate wave. “Haven’t met you yet. My name’s Jesus, what’s yours?”

Her brow scrunched cutely as she scrutinized him from her perch on top of Michonne, her bouncing coming to an abrupt halt. “Daddy says we don’t believe that stuff.”

The swords-woman snorted, jostling the blond girl in her lap and Jesus’s smile widened.

“Not _that_ Jesus, though people do confuse me with him all the time. I’m a different one. Less son of God and more unconventionally handsome man of mystery.”

Across the table, Daryl rolled his eyes so hard that it looked like it hurt.

Judith’s features didn’t change much but her head tilted curiously to the side as though remembering something. “M’Judith. Are you Daryl’s friend?”

“Sure am,” Jesus confirmed. “I wanna be your Daddy’s friend too, but we got to hang out more first. Get to know each other’s likes and dislikes, his favorite color, boxers or briefs. The whole deal.”

Across the table, Daryl’s cutlery clinked loudly as he set his fork and knife down harshly on his plate.

“ _Paul_.”

“Speaking of which, what’s your favorite color, Judith?”

“I like yellow,” She said, a hint of a smile making its way onto her face, even as an air of wariness remained in her posture. “Like the wildflowers on the side of the road.”

Jesus nodded his head enthusiastically and cooed. “Ooo good answer.”

“What’s yours?” Judith asked.

Jesus made a production of raising a hand to grasp at his chin as he squinted off into the distance, as though deep in thought, before snapping his fingers once loudly. “Blue. Definitely blue.”

Bending his head a little, Jesus regarded the young girl with a searching look. “Kind of like the same blue as your eyes actually. That’s a gorgeous color.”

Judith shyly buried her face into the crock of Michonne’s neck and giggled.

“Maybe don’t flirt with Rick’s daughter right in front of him,” Michonne laughed, gathering the wriggling bundle in her arms closer. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets murdered horribly in their sleep.”

Jesus snickered and nudged the woman playfully.

“As adorable and lovely as Judith is…” Jesus began, straightening in his seat and bringing his attention to the man in question. “She’s not exactly my type. I tend to go after daddies not daughters.”

The bright flush of red on Rick’s cheeks was almost too endearing to bear and Jesus would have doubled over if it weren’t for the immediate response of his son, who flopped dramatically onto the table.

“Oh my god, _stop_.” Carl whined, burying his face in between his hands. “You’re talking about my _dad_ , dude.”

Too delighted by his own mischief to notice the growing scowl on his boyfriend’s face, Jesus continued prodding. “How do you think you were made, Carl?”

Carl groaned loudly and shook his head. “Yeah, no. Somehow I think you two would have a hard time with that.”

Jesus leered full force, undeterred by Michonne’s elbow digging into his ribs. “But we’d have a lot of fun trying.” 

Across the table, Rick smartly kept quiet while Daryl cringed. “ _This_ is your best behavior?”

“What?”

Just then, Jesus felt a hand clap against his shoulder and he swiveled in his seat.

“Hey Jesus,” Glenn said, seemingly unaware of the conversation he had just interrupted. “Didn’t know you were dropping in so early."

“Glenn, my man!” Jesus greeted happily, clasping Glenn’s elbow in friendly greeting. “How’s Enid doing?”

“She’s good. Been asking after you though, Carl.” Glenn’s focus switched to the eldest Grime child. “Haven’t seen you around the house as much.”

Straightening from his slouch, Carl forced a strained smile onto his face, his eyes flickering nervously to his father.

“I’ve been trying to stay home in the evenings.” He explained haltingly. “Got a lot of catching up to do with dad.”

Glenn nodded, although he raised an eyebrow when he caught on to the stumbling tone. “Family dinner’s tonight. Why don’t I bring her over?”

“Yeah.” Carl nodded, his head bobbing awkwardly. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Cool.” Glenn smiled again and then patted Jesus once more on the shoulder before taking a step back. “Excuse me. I’ve got a few folks I need to talk to. We’ll see you all tonight.”

When Glenn had taken his leave, Rick turned to Carl, a puzzled look on his face.

“What was he talking about?” He asked. “With Enid?”

Carl bit his lip and cast his eyes upward. “Umm…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Daryl said, exasperated. “You didn’t tell your dad yet?”

Jesus smirked as the younger man’s face turned a light shade of pink. “Carl’s dating Glenn’s kid.”

“They’re really adorable together.” Michonne chimed in, her own wicked smile in full display.

Rick looked back to Daryl who was kind enough to explain. “Kid followed her around like a lost puppy for months before _she_ asked _him_ out. Two have been buggin’ each other ever since.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rick asked, turning to face his son, frowning.

“There was so much going on.” Carl mumbled, obviously still embarrassed by the whole thing. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Shit.” Rick’s voice was almost meek, definitely a little on the strangled side. “What else are you all keeping from me?”

Jesus stroked his beard, rattling his brain. “You know about Abe and Sasha’s thing?”

“What?” Rick fumbled with his fork.

“No?” Jesus asked. “How about Carol and that Tobin guy?”

Rick looked for a moment like he was about to cry.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Daryl interrupted, holding a hand out to Jesus before turning on Rick.

The older man slid his hand up the back of Rick’s neck, arm draped over his shoulder, the space between them all but erased as their bodies slotted together. There was an ease and familiarity to it that quietly rocked Jesus’s world for a moment and strangely sent his heart plummeting from his chest into his stomach.

Jesus knew that Daryl’s devotion to Rick was one born of a well-authored history together and a deep seeded loyalty, but to witness the tenderhearted concern that filled the hunter’s eyes as he searched his friend’s face for any signs of hurt was something else entirely and as Jesus observed them further he realized that a part of him wanted nothing more than to turn away.

Because the longer he looked the more it felt like he was intruding.

The scout’s eyes flickered to Carl and Michonne and he was relieved to see that their worried expressions had remained mostly unchanged. This display of closeness didn’t shock them.

This wasn’t new behavior then.

Daryl had told him only a little of his time at the prison.

The first time it had come into conversation had been back when they had still been feeling each other out right after the end of the war. They had all stumbled back to the Hilltop bruised, exhausted, and broken in more places than they were ready to admit. Jesus and the other Hilltop residents had opened their homes to the wounded, Jesus lending his trailer out to a small family that had volunteered from the Kingdom, whose eldest daughter had lost a limb in the final raid against the Savior’s compound and whose youngest son was recovering from a bullet to his gut.

Jesus had gone to Barrington House, unwilling to impose himself on his guests, but upon stumbling into the sea of cots and sleeping bags that lined every available spot, the scout had retreated to the second floor balcony in hopes of securing a little solitude for himself. Slipping out into the cool evening air, Jesus had scanned the area and had been surprised to find the space blessedly empty save for one lone figure reclined along the concrete floor, head cushioned with only the bunched up material of what looked to be a jacket.

Daryl had greeted him with a neutral enough ‘hey’ and Jesus had laid out a blanket beside him without another thought about it.

They had laid there in silence for a while, neither of them particularly compelled to speak, both of them bone weary and in need of rest.

And yet the words had spilled from him like an accident, “I don’t really want to be around people right now.”

It had been one of those things that could have gone unsaid. It was implied and yet Jesus had felt weirdly pushed to express the thought when it came to him in the lingering quiet.

“I’m people.” Daryl had replied dryly and by some miracle he hadn’t sounded offended at all. Detached mostly, curious maybe.

An unasked question hung between them.

And before he knew it, the floodgates had burst and Jesus couldn’t find it within himself to stem the words that had begun to flow from him unchecked, the ache in his body and the tiredness of his mind doing little to inhibit the impulse to spill his guts now that Daryl had left him an opening.

“But I know you.” Jesus had felt the need to stress, had felt like it would be his biggest failing if Daryl went to bed that night not knowing. “At least that’s what it feels like now, after everything. Do you remember when we were raiding their armory and we got separated on the way out? I took a detour to lead them away so you could get the guns out? I wanted you to live _so bad_. You’d saved my life so many times over, shared your food with me, patched me up when I was wounded, even though I could tell that you hated my guts most of the time…”

Daryl had grunted then, whether disagreeing with the sentiment or expressing something else, Jesus hadn’t known at the time, hadn’t been able to read the other man to that degree yet, so he had continued talking, purging himself of the worst of the feelings building up in his chest.

“But then I got out, somehow, and we met up back in the woods and as soon as you saw me I was sure you were going to murder me yourself, the way you threw me up against that tree and screamed at me. I couldn’t understand it at the time. Nothing would have been ruined if they got me. I wouldn’t have given anything away; they probably would have just killed me, but you were _so mad_.”

Something like a sob had lodged itself in the back of his throat at some point in his ramblings, but he had swallowed it down. His eyes had remained dry for so long, self-pity wouldn’t be the thing to break him.

“That room is full of neighbors of mine, men and women that I’ve known for years now if you can believe it. I’ve done extremely risky shit for them, put everything on the line to keep them safe… and they’re grateful— beyond thankful—, but I walked in that room just now and it was like they were all strangers. Familiar faces but only just that.”

He had turned onto his side then and looked out into the darkness at the hunter’s profile, Daryl’s eyes still trained upward, staunchly avoiding his own searching gaze.

“I _hate_ feeling so selfish, like their gratitude isn’t enough. But I would’ve given anything for one of them to run up to me, just a little bit concerned, and ask if I was okay… but I don’t have that here… Realizing that hurts like you can’t believe.”

He had dropped off then, his mouth suddenly dry, eyes squeezing shut. He had never felt so exposed before and the silence that fell over them stung like a prodding finger against an open nerve.

He hadn’t expected Daryl to respond, but the hunter went and surprised him. Flipping over onto his elbow, Daryl had regarded him from where he laid for a moment before his eyes flittered downward, his voice like the crunch of gravel as he spoke into the night.

“Before Alexandria, longest place me an’ my group shacked up was this prison back in Georgia… Was livin’ in each other’s pockets for months and it got to the point where I couldn’ go to sleep some nights without Glenn’s awful snoring or Carl shufflin’ the pages of one of his comic books. Your people start becoming more important than your own limbs and next thing you know you start havin’ trouble separating whose limbs are whose to begin with…”

He had jerked his chin at the balcony doors.

“In that room over there… it kinda felt like that, jus’ for a second.”

Jesus had watched the hunter, enrapt, until Daryl rolled back onto his back, the space between them sending a twinge of panic through the scout for a split second before the other man settled.

“I can’t be in that place in my head right now though. Don’ wanna taint it with the shit that’s sittin’ in there now…” Daryl had continued, looking away. “That kind of close never came naturally for me. Bein’ in there ain’t the same thing, but it reminds me of it. And right now I need to forget ‘fore I can remember again.”

That kind of honesty had felt like a gift at the time and before Jesus could think about how it would sound, he found himself thanking the other man.

"For what?” Daryl had asked.

“For sharing that with me. For sharing something real.” Jesus had replied.

It had been a first of sorts for them.

It had still taken months more before they had even considered themselves friends.

It hadn’t taken long after that to realize that there was something more happening between them.

And while they were close now, Jesus had to remind himself that Daryl had shared a similar intimacy with Rick long before they had ever met.

“We wasn’t keepin’ nothin’ from you, man…” Daryl said, still attempting to soothe Rick. “It just didn’t seem important all right? Not until we had you steady again.”

Jesus watched as the ex-sheriff nodded, eyes downcast as he worried his teeth into his bottom lip.

“I know I haven’t been one hundred percent.” Rick said, sullenly staring at his half-eaten plate. “But I’m not gonna get any better if I’m kept in the dark. You’ve all had lives without me, done things, met people. I should—I want to be a part of that.”

“Full disclosure.” Michonne murmured, nodding her head, her eyes darting to Daryl and Carl quickly, challengingly. “We can do that.”

Across the table, Daryl shot Jesus a look.

Jesus’s thought of _speak for yourself_ was smartly left unsaid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Throwing some Daryl/Jesus into the mix. Sorry about the jumpy vignette nature of this story. There's no beta for this baby, so all mistakes are my mistakes.


	8. think of nothing else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets mad and Jesus provides some perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOO it's been awhile, but I did find this chapter completed in a word doc I haven't opened in ages. Who knew? lol

 

True to his word, Glenn arrived that evening with a bemused Enid in tow, clearly just getting off her shift in the orchards, a faded baseball cap holding down her dark hair and dirt dusting the shins of her jeans. The Alexandria leader strolled into the Grimes household with the curl of a knowing smile playing at his lips.

“For what it’s worth,” He said to Rick as they quickly embraced at the door. “I didn’t know you didn’t know.”

Rick received the hug with a consciously loose posture and forced out a light chuckle. “It’s fine. Just another happy surprise, I guess.” 

Letting the other man go, Rick noticed the young woman behind them glancing at him curiously.

Enid smiled when she caught his gaze and dipped her head almost shyly. “Hey, Mr. Grimes.”

“Can call me Rick if you want.” He said, moving around Glenn to greet her properly. Slipping his hand into his back pocket, Rick produced a familiar pair of gardening gloves. 

He held them out to her. “I meant to return these to you, but I hadn’t found a good time before now.”

Enid brow pinched slightly. “But they’re yours.”

The hand holding the gloves twitched and his arm extended a little further out, insistent. “Thing is, I don’t do a lot of gardening these days. You could make use of them. Should do.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the item, her reluctance squashed in the face of the earnest imploring. “Though if you ever want to get your hands dirty again you know where to find them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rick’s gaze drifted for a second, Glenn’s hand coming down on his shoulder once in a departing pat as he moved away from the two, stepping further into the house just in time to intercept an approaching Carl. Rick watched for a moment as his son’s b-line for the door was rudely cut short, Glenn blocking the young man with a smile and firm handshake. Carl returned the welcome before sending a nervous look toward the entryway. 

“You two happy?” Rick asked her softly, twisting his head to catch her eye.

Enid laughed when she caught the look of apprehension on her boyfriend’s face but sobered as she turned to face her boyfriend’s father again. “I am. I think he is too.”

Rick nodded his head. “Good.”

The young woman shifted restlessly before squaring her shoulders and regarding Rick with something approaching a serious expression even as her face remained soft and open.

“Ever since you came back he smiles more.” Her voice dropped as the secret passed between them and Rick leaned closer to hear her over the chatter as she continued. “Not that he didn’t smile before, it’s just he does it _more_ now. I didn’t know that was something I was missing until now.”

“Hey guys! What are we talking about?”

It seemed that Carl’s restraint had run out and having successfully bypassed Glenn came to stand just slightly between his father and his girlfriend, his shoulder edging noticeably into the space separating the two.

“Um, excuse you.” Enid scolded, shoving the young man back. But it seemed that his son was used to such dismissive handling because his arm came up quickly, snaking around Enid’s back and wrestling her toward him. Rolling her eyes, the young woman hit his chest playfully before returning the hug with a squeeze of her arms around his shoulders. 

Enid pulled back and smiled easily for one uncomplicated moment before reaching out and batting the chocolate Stetson from Carl’s head. “You’re an idiot,” she said, fondness evident in her tone.

Rick watched the interaction closely, curious about this new aspect of his son’s life, but remarkably unworried and a small part of him indescribably pleased that his son was willing to be so openly affectionate in front of him now.

This was the new normal, he guessed.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Rick stood off to the side and glanced around the living room, his hands hanging momentarily idle at his sides. 

Across the room, Judith was wiggling in Enid’s lap on the ground, Carl’s fingers digging into her sides, teasing peals of laughter from her. His tore his eyes away, squashing the desire to snatch her up and jealously keep her by his side.

A drink was suddenly pressed into his hand, the bearer looking inordinately pleased with himself as he saddled up beside him, flashing him a bright smile. “Got you something that’ll put some color in your cheeks.”

Rick inspected the glass before flitting his gaze to the other man. “I was drinking water before.”

Jesus’s lips quirked slightly and he gave an exaggerated shrug. “And I turned it into wine. _Jesus_ here. What did you expect?” 

Rick’s exasperation flew to his face before he could tamp it down and Jesus laughed almost giddily as the ex-sheriff worked on dispatching the feeling.

“Jokes aside, how’re you handling things?”

Shrugging, Rick warily lowered his mouth to the glass and took a tentative sip. “You tell me. Seems like you’re the one keepin’ score.”

“I’d offer you a high five if I didn’t think you’d have your bicep around my throat the second I tried.” Jesus snorted into his own glass, smiling around the rim. “Although, I’m always up for new experiences.”

The younger man’s eyes watched him greedily for another reaction and Rick did his best to disappoint. He didn’t know what to do with these looks the scout kept sending him, these teasing, leering flashes that made Rick feel unbalanced and wondering.

“It’s weird.” Rick began, forcing his thoughts in another direction. He tilted his head in the direction of his son. “I never got around to giving him that kind of talk, you know? How to treat a girl, be a gentlemen… Looks like he figured it out well enough.”

Jesus’s eyes traveled to the spot on the living room floor where the couple sat, both teasing the young blonde into another fit of giggles.

“You can probably thank Michonne for that actually,” Jesus said. “Think she slipped him some pointers along the way.”

“Guess I’ll add it to the list.” 

He swiveled his attention back to the scout who seemed content just to stand with him in companionable silence.

“Do I need to be worried about you?”

Jesus’s smile turned a puzzled and then his brow furrowed.

“How do you mean?” He asked, voice still light and airy, but he doesn’t hide the bite entirely.

Rick clamped his jaw shut, teeth grinding while he tried to rearrange his thoughts. “I mean… sorry, I’m not trying to—”

The silence between them, previously comfortable, took on the uneasy thickness of an unasked question.

Rick was a heartbeat away from abandoning the conversation entirely, disappearing back into the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar face, when a drawn out sigh was released next to him and he glanced up at the other man to see him shaking his head amusedly, a small smile making its way back onto his face.

“Rick, it’s okay. Don’t think so hard— it looks painful. I should have known I’d be getting the shovel talk from you sooner or later anyway. So let me reassure you now that I’ll do dumb, reckless shit to keep these people safe.” His hand shot out, gesturing to the room. “I want them happy, comfortable, and most important of all _alive_.”

“I also don’t want to step on any toes…” Jesus continued, glancing up at Rick deferentially. “If you want me to back off though, you’ll have to speak up.”

Rick shook his head. “No, no.”

Jesus quirked an eyebrow, his expression mild. “We good then?”

“Yeah.” Rick began. “But about you and Daryl…”

Jesus interrupted him. “You have a question about Daryl…” The scout swung his foot back and took a step away, clearly exiting their conversation. “My advice would be to ask him.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They must have shifted in the night, curled up and twisted around each other. He inched his hips back, trying to extract an arm, carefully, but not careful enough. Daryl groaned and Rick could feel the exact moment he woke up when his breath caught and he rolled away from him.

“Sorry.”

“S’fine.”

And it was strangely fine. What wasn’t fine was that now Daryl was on the other side of the bed, out of reach.

And in just a few hours Daryl would off on a supply run, and Rick realized he wasn’t as steady as he thought.

“How long will you be gone?” Rick asked later, hovering fretfully to the side while Jesus and Daryl packed their supplies into the U-Haul.

“Three days, four days tops.” Daryl replied sounding distracted as he worked a gas can nozzle into the fuel port.

“I can’t go with you.” It wasn’t a question, but there was a subtle air of disappointment in the way the statement landed.

Daryl looked up sharply. “Would you want to?” He sounded unsure of himself suddenly, like he hadn’t considered that Rick would be upset by his absence. “I just thought with Judith and Carl…”

Rick shook his head, feeling stupid and weak for telegraphing his insecurities so plainly. “No. You’re right.”

“It ain’t that long.” Daryl said, clearly trying to comfort him now that he had picked up on his friend’s distress.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rick noticed Jesus up by the driver’s door, chatting with Eugene about priority finds. “He’s going to keep you safe?”

“You worried? You don’t gotta be.”

His stomach turned over and he forced himself to look away. “Just come back in one piece, okay?”

A terrible feeling sunk into his stomach as he watched the truck roll passed the gates, the fenced barrier closing behind them.

Things got worse from there.

The next day Carol had showed up at the house bright and early and had insisted that Rick bring Judith over for what was meant to be a sort of meet and greet for the preschool aged residents of the community along with their parents.

Carol had become distracted as she divided her attention between the students and their parents, attempting to explain the itinerary of a typical day in class while also redirecting the explosive energy of the young children

Without a buffer or even a mediator of sorts, Rick had found himself hanging out along the sidelines, cautiously keeping an eye on his daughter as she interacted with her peers, white tacky glue and glitter smeared along her hands as she stuck bits of construction paper together into the shape of a dog.

“My daddy shot a dog once,” he could hear her whisper to the child next to her, although her voice carried in a lull in the noise. “We hadda ate it after too.”

“Ewww! I’ve only ever eaten squirrel.”

“Me and my brother ate snake once.”

The other parents looked at him with sneers of disgust but Rick only had eyes for his little girl.

“Rick.”

Rick glanced to his side and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

“I’m going to ask the parents to leave in just a few minutes,” Carol murmured low, just loud enough for the two of them. “It’ll just be for an hour or so. Do you think you’ll be okay?”

Rick swallowed hard.

He nodded.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Debating whether or not to waste the rest of his morning in the orchard with Enid or give into the impulse to wait outside of the schoolhouse, Rick’s head whipped around at the sound of honking and set off in a sprint. The ex-sheriff arrived just as the gates were hauled open by a dutiful guard and Rick breathed a sigh of relief as the U-Haul crawled inside the walls. Rick recognized Daryl’s dark wild hair when a head popped out the passenger side window and he watched as the man’s hand cupped around his mouth as he shouted something out at him as he neared

“Careful!” Daryl shouted, voice muffled by the noise of the truck. “Think a walker got caught on the hitch!”

Alerted, Rick rounded the side of the U-Haul and sure enough there was the snarling corpse of a young man hanging from the receiver. Sliding his knife from its sheath, Rick reached out to steady its head before forcing the blade into its skull, a spurt of blood landing on the side of the ex-sheriff’s cheek.

The sound of doors opening greeted his ears and Rick glanced up in time to see the hunter looking down at him.

Rick straightened his back. “How was it?”

“Good.” Daryl grunted, running a hand through his hair, fingers dragging through grimy tangles. “Truck is loaded with seeds and cow shit.”

“You find anything else?” Rick asked, curious.

This time Jesus answered, appearing around the back of the U-Haul, his ever-present grin already firmly in place. “The small tools section was mostly untouched, so we cleared that out. Got a few chainsaws and a lot of hose tubing and just general irrigation equipment. We even saw some heavy machinery that we could probably get up and running again if Aaron or Daryl took a look. They had two tractors on the lot and something that I’m pretty sure was a mechanized plow.”

The scout continued speaking as he unlatched the back and shoved the wall of the truck open with a muted grunt. “Not sure how much use you all could have of it now, but once you scale up they could be helpful.”

Rick nodded and peered inside, taking in the loot. “How much of what you two found is goin’ back to the Hilltop?”

Jesus shrugged, bottom lip snagged between his teeth as he hummed quietly in thought. “About half. But we’ll divide it up based on need first. You guys need the manure more than we do, but Alexandria has a lot of the small tools that we found, so more of those will probably go home with me.”

“Where’s the lil’ asskicker at?” Daryl asked, catching Rick’s attention with a nudge of his shoulder.

Rick dipped his head slightly, still less than pleased by the development. “Carol enrolled her in school pretty much the second ya’ll left,” he admitted, frowning. “Guess she got tired of me stallin’.”

Daryl huffed out a sigh and tilted his head up to squint at the sun. “It’s almost midday, ain’t it? Shouldn’t she be done soon?”

Rick nodded. “I was on my way to wait outside Carol’s when I heard the gates opening…”

He started to turn away, intending to throw a quick glance toward the schoolhouse when Jesus emitted a sharp grunt.

“Wait a sec,” Jesus cautioned, one gloved hand coming up to wipe against Rick’s check without warning, smudging the stain of rancid walker blood on his skin, “you got red on you.” 

Startled into stillness, Rick’s eyes widened as he jerked backward, away from the touch, his vision whiting out for a few seconds that seemed to stretch longer than what was possible.

When Rick came back to himself, sweat had gathered at his temples and his eyes had gone a little foggy, but he was aware and let out a shaky elated laugh as he looked at Daryl who had stepped between him and the younger man as soon as he clued into what was happening.

“Come back, buddy.” Daryl murmured, watching him carefully.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Rick reassured the hunter, repeating it to himself a few more times as though mulling the idea over. “Just didn’t expect that was all.”

“So this is like definitive proof that you really do like me, right?” Jesus said, interrupting. “Like, I’m sorry for startling you, that was my bad, but my god this is validating.”

Daryl reached out behind him and shoved at the scout. “Shut the fuck up for one minute, would ya?”

Rick shook his head, hoping to clear the buzzing that had started up again. “I just need some space for a second.” He released a long, suffering breath. “Lemme just—”

“Take a walk.” Daryl offered. “Do a lap around town.”

“Was going to help with the truck though.”

“We’ll still be here by the time you get back. Ain’t that big of a town, Rick.”

Regulating his breathing was easier said than done, but he put one foot in front of the other and soon enough his body had calmed and before he knew it he had rounded the last block and was on his way back to the U-Haul. In the distance he could see Jesus passing down bulky, black trash bags from the bed of the loading truck, the hunter tossing the bags into piles on the ground. 

Approaching the end of the residential block, Rick’s pace slowed when a scattering of voices caught his attention. Glancing at the last house on the right, Carol’s place, Rick noticed three women gathered at the bottom of the small porch at the building’s front, there eyes tracking the two men unloading supplies in mild interest as they spoke candidly with each other, their voices just loud enough to hear from a few yards back. Rick recognized them from the meet and greet a few days before and guessed that they must be waiting for class to let out.

“It’s just more proof that Gabriel was right. The guy is totally unstable.”

As her words registered, Rick stopped in place, freezing at the cold realization that he was the subject of their conversation sank in.

One of the women elbowed the woman next her to gain her attention. “He freaked out on Nathaniel the other day too, were you there for that?”

The woman shook her head. “Not surprised to be honest… And he’s raising a child? Doesn’t anyone see a problem with that?”

A petite woman with light orange curls standing furthest away from the house snorted. “Yeah and what’s the deal with his daughter anyway? They don’t look anything alike.”

Feeling his heart drop in his stomach, Rick’s breathing picked up, his heart lurching around as his feet began to move on their own accord, forcing him in the direction of the voices.

“You really don’t think she’s his?”

The ex-sheriff was drawn closer, a bubbling heat rising in his chest.

“Couldn’t say for sure, but from what I’ve heard he hasn’t even let Denise give her a check up yet.” The woman cocked her head up at the other women and clicked her tongue. “He’s so weirdly possessive of her. Never lets her out of his sight, almost never takes her out of the house either. It’s suspicious is all I’m saying.”

Two of the women shared worried looks before one of them asked, haltingly, “You think he could be hurting her?”

The woman’s lips thinned and she shrugged. “I think they should’ve separated those two the second they came through those gates.”

Rick, knocked from his paralysis, stalked forward with a abrupt burst of speed and turned on the woman, shoving his palm into the meat of the woman’s shoulder, not hard enough to send her to the ground but forceful enough to startle her backward a few clumsy paces.

Getting into her face, Rick puffed his chest out and bared his teeth. “You say anything like that again and I’ll cut your tongue out and make you choke on it, you understand me?”

He could feel the feral creeping in as the woman’s lip curled indignantly at him as she recovered her balance. She twitched her head up, a curl of orange hair sliding away from her freckled face to reveal the full set of her sneer.

“Glenn may have vouched for you, but that doesn’t mean that we have to turn a blind eye every time you throw a tantrum,” she sniped, the weight of her conviction driving her. “Your poor daughter… I don’t know what you think you’re doing with that little girl.”

Incensed by the woman’s gull, Rick took a step forward and jerked a ridged finger in her face.

“That’s right. You _don’t_ know. So, why don’t you stick to something you do?”

Undeterred, the woman leaned in and narrowed her eyes challengingly.

“You think I’m afraid of you, Grimes?” She asked haughtily, her bravado stunning in the face of his barely concealed rage.

His hand dropped and his fingers curled inward, knuckles turning pale as he struggled to keep his arm down by his side.

“I think you should be.” He growled, spit flying from his mouth as the threat tore from his throat. “You have no idea what I can do, what I can live with doin’… You spew that horseshit about me or my daughter again and you’ll find out real quick—”

He was cut off by a panicked voice in the distance, the sounds of footsteps growing louder behind him as someone ran toward them. “Rick!” 

Daryl came to a sudden halt by his side, panting slightly as he slid a gentle hand down the outside of Rick’s arm to rest carefully at the jut of the ex-sheriff’s elbow. “What’s goin’ on here, man?”

When Rick didn’t answer, Daryl turned to the small group of woman and cocked an eyebrow. “I missin’ somethin’?”

The petite woman huffed, crossing her arms across her small frame, her gaze still centered on Rick. Her face twisted meanly a moment later and she regarded Daryl with a sickly false flash of teeth, tilting her head in a mocking impression of innocence. “Just telling Rick how glad I am you’re back from your trip. I feel better knowing that there’s someone capable watching after little Judith, you know?”

“Fuck you!” Rick snarled, taking a step forward only to be hauled backward by a circle of strong arms around his waist.

“Let ‘em be, Rick. Jus’ let ‘em be, okay?” Daryl grunted into his ear, struggling to contain the burst of anger. “Come back over to the truck, yeah? They ain’t worth it.”

The past few weeks had taught him that Daryl’s calm was nothing more than a trick, something for Rick to focus his simpering anger on when the only other option was releasing his wrath on someone else. But Rick had locked on and he would not be the first to blink.

Rick bucked wildly in the hunter’s hold and only just managed to slip free, the sudden movement catching the other man by surprise. He whirled on Daryl, spit flying from his mouth like a seething dog, well aware that he was making a scene. 

“Don’t fucking touch me, man.” He snarled.

Daryl twitched, an aborted move forward and instead dug his nails further into the palms of his hands.

“You need to calm down, Rick. This ain’t helpin’ nothin’.”

He had been doing so well, tethering the dark thoughts and wild impulses that were now fleeing him in bursts— and _fuck them_. Fuck these people who didn’t know a goddamn thing about what he had been struggling with, who were so quick to erase every hard earned inner battle and label him some kind of monster. These lazy, entitled leeches that probably didn’t have to fight for an inch of what they reaped.

At least Rick had _earned_ his spot.

“Oh, am I scarin’ the neighbors? That a punishable offense around here? You gonna call the guards on me? Have me thrown out?”

Daryl didn’t flinch and kept his eyes glued to the other man. “Don’t, man.”

“Don’t what? These people are _weak and stupid_. And I ain’t gonna tolerate it.” He continued, volume growing. “I’ve gut people for less and I’m about a second away from showin’ them—”

Daryl’s hand cracked against his jaw, the heel of his palm instead of his fist because he had warned him and Rick knew that the next blow would include knuckles as surely as he knew that a _real_ punch was exactly what he was aching for.

“You ain’t helpin’ yourself, dipshit.” Daryl spat, finally something other than strained impatience coloring his voice. “Don’t wanna fight you over this, man.”

“Daryl, you don’t let me by now and you’re not gonna have a choice.”

He punctuated the sentiment with a rough shove that sent the hunter staggering back.

And in a moment of truly terrible timing, a small figure tore down the schoolhouse porch, through the huddled women, and across the street, loose flaxen hair catching the light of the afternoon sun as a young girl ran into the street.

“Daddy no!” Judith yelled, her feet slapping against the pavement as he bolted over to her father. “Stop! Gotta stop!”

Latching onto him, Judith’s small hands clenched around the material of Rick’s pants, shaking him from below. “What you doin’, huh? We don’t hurt Daryl! He’s on our side! He’s _ours_.”

The small worried sounds hit him hard and Rick snapped his mouth shut with a loud click. Ignoring the others, Rick gently pried her loose from his leg and then dropped down onto his knees in front of her.

“Hey.” Rick crooned at her, all traces of anger carefully erased from his voice. “It’s okay. I—”

“You still ready to defend this piece of shit, Daryl?”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Cathy.”

“Why were you gonna hit Daryl, Daddy?” Judith whimpered, burying her forehead into her father’s shoulder as she fought the tears that started forming in the corner of her eyes. “He didn’t mean it, whatever it was, he didn’t mean it.”

“No, no. Shhhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Rick cooed, stomach twisting into knots as his brave little girl struggled not to cry in front of him. “We’re not fightin’ anymore, baby. We’re okay.”

They were all looking at him now, staring in shocked groups, the sound of their voices like the crackling buzz of static on a radio.

“Rick.” It was Jesus’s voice. “Let’s get her out of here, alright?” A hand settled on the top of his shoulder and he managed not to flinch at the contact. “Back to the house.”

Rick looked up at the younger man as he continued to speak. “Everything’s fine. We can unload the truck later.”

Nodding, Rick rocked to his feet, Judith wrapped in his arms, shielded from the crowd.

They walked back to the house in silence, Jesus leading the way.

“Hold up.” Jesus instructed once they arrived. “Wait for me here just a moment. I need to grab something and then I’ll be right out.”

Confused but compliant, Rick stood, unmoving on the lawn until Jesus emerged, a coloring book and a box of crayons wedged under his arm. He held the two items out to Judith.

“Why don’t you draw for a bit while your father and I practice healthy coping mechanisms. Can you be a sport, honey?”

Uncertain, Rick lowered Judith to the ground and watched her make her way up onto the porch, satisfied but weary.

“We’re not going far, just to the side of the house. See? She’s right there.” Jesus reassured, noticing where Rick’s gaze fell.

“So here’s what I think for today and tell me what you think. You and me are going to work on relieving a little of that stress of yours.”

Rick’s eyebrow twitched but he remained silent.

“First thing’s first, you have any sharp, stabby things on you?”

“No.”

Jesus nodded seemingly satisfied and shrugged his coat off before setting it aside. “Good. Can’t have you cutting me up while we spar.”

Rick’s impassive mask slipped for a moment and he actually looked surprised. “Spar?”

“Exactly.” Jesus nods. “When I wasn’t working magic with caffeinated goodness before all this I used to teach martial arts at a local college. It was mostly self-defense classes, but Taekwondo and Krav Maga were popular too.”

Tossing his coat aside, Jesus slid an elastic band from his wrist and swept his long hair up, twisting the length until it was coiled into a tight bun, pulling the band up and around until the hair was secured back.

“Look. You’ve got some pent up fight in you, but there aren’t many options for you in here to express that and I’d rather you not have to resort to taking your frustrations out on the dead. I can handle whatever you throw at me, Rick. You got the jump on me that first night, I own up to that, but if you hadn’t pulled my knife on me I’d have had you on your back without breaking a sweat.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Okay. So how does this start then?”

“Go with your gut. You still mad about what went down earlier? Show me.”

Without taking the time to consider the scout’s seriousness, Rick took a swing, hoping to knock some sense into the stupid, confident smirk that had taken residence on the other man’s face, but with a quick feigned left and a swipe of his arm, Rick missed and staggered to the side, a swift shove taking him off guard.

“Got to do better than that, darling.”

And that was how it continued.

Jesus flowed around each of Rick’s blows seamlessly, weaving in and out of range with an effortless kind of elegance that Rick hadn’t seen before outside of old martial arts movies, all the while spouting bullshit that Rick didn’t necessarily care to hear.

“There’s nothing inherently wrong with your instincts, Rick. In fact, it’s probably what kept you alive for so long.” He dodged another blow. “But now, it doesn’t really serve a purpose. It isn’t functional. It doesn’t help you protect your daughter like it did out there.”

Rick didn’t know what his face did but it obviously said something to Jesus because he faltered in his retreat and Rick finally landed a punch, knuckles embedded in the scout’s stomach.

The scout huffed out an airy gasp, but before Rick knew what was happening, the scout had him on his back and he had no earthly idea on how he ended up there.

“If you can’t curb that urge altogether than you need to redirect it. Hone that brutality into something you have power over. Let it serve you and make peace with it.”

Jesus pinned Rick to the ground with his hands and trapped Rick’s legs between his own so that he could buck up off the grass but unable to get enough leverage to do anything meaningful.

“One of the risks of keeping to yourself is that the other people can fill you silences for you: You’re calculating. You’re uncaring. You’re damaged. When other people can’t read us, they write their own story and it’s not one you get to chose.”

“What’s your point?” Rick spat.

“You have to chose. You either follow the narrative they’ve created and prove them right on all accounts, or you show them that they couldn’t have been more wrong about you and that the trust you engendered in the people you lead at the prison was well founded and should stand for itself.”

He offered Jesus a brittle, bitter sort of grin in return.

“And what if I can’t?” Rick replied hoarsely, the broken quality of his voice setting off alarm bells in Jesus’s head.

“It’s not an issue of can or can’t, Rick. It’s whether or not you’re willing to try.” 

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“And I don’t know if it’s going to rain tomorrow. Life’s full of uncertainties. Don’t let that stop you.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Around noon, Carol came around the house with a full casserole dish loaded with lasagna in tow and made it exceedingly clear that she wasn’t going to leave until she watched Rick eat at least two servings. 

“Come on, sit.” She coaxed, leading him over to the table. “We need to talk.”

Noticing the bags under his eyes, the older woman pattered into the kitchen, leaving Rick to stew at the table, and set about fiddling with the coffee maker, coming back with two mugs for each of them. She asked him quiet questions about how he liked his coffee but Rick just shrugged her inquiries off and took the mug from her, nostrils puckering when he inhaled the bitter brew. He set the cup onto the table, untouched, distantly wishing that Jesus had stuck around long enough that morning to make a pour over for him as well.

His stomach grumbled angrily in the silence that had followed. He wanted to reach for some food – he felt inexplicitly starved – but he couldn’t bear to risk it. 

Carol stared at him for a solid minute, and Rick started to feel his heartbeat accelerate uncomfortably as he realized that she wasn’t going to be the one to start this conversation.

“Is somethin’ wrong?” he asked, and felt instantly stupid for doing so.

The bruise on his knuckles was a visible splotch of maroon and yellow and looked just as bad as it stung.

Rick reached for his coffee again, hoping Carol wouldn’t see how his hand shook, but figuring it was hard not to notice, and took a big gulp of the hot liquid so it could scorch his throat.

“Did sparing with Jesus help?” Carol asked eventually, warily watching him distract himself.

Rick made some non-committal noise and shrugged. He forced himself to eat from the plate she had made for him because Carol looked as if she were about to have a fit even though she was clearly trying her best not to.

“Where was Judith?” Carol asked, her inflection carefully even. 

Rick felt an unpleasant sort of anger coiling in the pit of his stomach but he managed something close to a neutral expression and uttered a few words that weren’t strangled by the sudden coldness that was washing over him.

“With a coloring book on the porch.”

“You know…” She began and the delicate way in which she spoke to him was beginning to set his teeth on edge. “I’m always happy to watch her, right? When you need time to yourself.”

Rick dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter and forced his eyes up. “You think I can’t take care of her either, that it?”

“I didn’t say that.” Carol shot back, a frown finally forming on her face. “If this is the outlet you need that’s fine, but do you really think Judith needs to see that? Things here are different. Life is what you make it and if you don’t want that little girl to witness anymore violence that could very well be her reality.”

Rick crossed his arms, hiding the curl of his fingers in the crocks of his arms, and stared vacantly down at the wood grain of the table.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, Rick. I just worry that if no one says it you’ll just go on not realizing that it’s a problem.” 

Immediately, Rick’s temper fizzled out and his fists unclenched and dropped limply into his lap.

“Am I really that bad?” Was he really just this pissed off and damaged person now? Rick wondered if that was what people saw when they looked at him now. Was that what Daryl saw and ignored?

“Rick,” Carol murmured in that patient way of hers. “You’re not doing anything wrong. Those women yesterday were out of line. I just need you to think about these things, okay honey? She’s your daughter, not mine, but I love her and I love you too much not to offer you advise when I think you need it.”

Swallowing around the lump forming his throat, Rick bent his head low and nodded, hiding from her gaze as he struggled to keep his ever-upheaving emotions in check.

“What do I have to do?”

“I think the only way you’re going to grow and get on in this world now, Rick, is to accept the fact that you’re not perfect but you are trying, and live accordingly.”

“Okay, okay.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

After Carol left, Rick ventured upstairs in search of his baby girl, needing to be close to her, make sure she was okay.

Stopping outside of the doorway, Rick paused, straining his ear to catch the muffed voices that filter through the wall, Judith, ever indignant, and Daryl, ever amused by the little girl’s antics.

“Why not?” Judith whined.

“Orders from the boss, lil’ miss. Your daddy tol’ me I couldn’ take you to the training grounds until you cleaned the mess you made up in our room. Jus’ followin’ the rules.”

“My Daddy ain’t the boss of you, Daryl.”

“You clearly don’ know your daddy. He’s the boss of all of us really. Smart man.”

“He’s alright.”

“Just alright?”

“The best!”

“Who raised you to be such a manipulator, huh?”

“Dunno what that means,” Judith pouted, turning to her father who chose that moment to open the door, unfettered amusement clear on his face. “Daddy, will you help me clean up m’toys?

“For you?” Rick crowed. “Anything.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hidden among the rubble and cloaked by the chaotic sounds of war, he had found her, pink-faced and screaming, but alive.

He had choked on his own blood as he fought the sobs bubbling from his throat, the pain in his thigh unbearable, a jarring shock of agony lighting his nerves aflame with every hard earned step. 

Holding her was both an unforgiving burden as well as an immeasurable relief.

By the time he escaped with her into the woods it was like they were the last two people on the face of the earth, a damning hush having fallen around them in the aftermath, and as they traveled further and further from what was left of their home, Rick had felt the first fleeting pangs of panic touch his mind since he found her.

Gone. Everyone was gone. Scattered. Lost.

The sun had long set by the time he had stumbled upon anything remotely habitable and his legs were beginning to fail him. Distantly Rick had registered the signs of his body shutting down.

Desperate and fatigued, he had been careless that first night. 

A narrow side road had cut through his path and on it a beat down minivan sat seemingly abandoned. With his daughter cradled against his shoulder he hadn’t even thought to make sure it was clear before hoisting them both inside, slamming the door shut behind, cutting them off from anything and everything outside.

He forced himself to relax, to take deep breaths and concentrate on what was more important than his comfort.

But he tipped Judith’s face toward him and smudged a tear away from the edge of her left eye.

He promised himself that he would never be so careless with his daughter’s life again.

They would never be powerless again.

 


End file.
